In memory of a first & last Father’s Day

Unfortunately, that first & last were the same – the Father’s Day of 2016. On June 19th.

The little boy that made any sense to that Father’s day was just 17 days old. Attached to more tubes & wires his body could endure. His chest was closed just the previous day, 9 days after his open heart surgery.

His dad, a nervous, emotional, worried and tired bag of love, stood motionless looking at his son, wondering if he’ll be able to hold him for his second. That was probably the longest he looked at him without a blink. His wife captured that moment on her phone.

He, who had imagined his first Father’s Day to be different, to be slightly colorful, came out of the ICU, teary-eyed, told his wife – “I hope it’s not my last.” His wife vividly remembers that conversation. She knew too, that there’s a possibility that it could be his last. But both of them caught hold on to that one tiny bit of hope that was the only way forward. She didn’t want to give him any false promises. She just smiled. Maybe, held his hands.

When the day started with both of them acknowledging that it’s Father’s Day, with a happy yet worried smile, they didn’t know it could get this intense. A friend who did not have the courage to send him a note, sent her instead:


She passed it on to him. He smiled & responded to that friend with the pic from that day of him looking at his son, standing by his bed – a pic that spoke of multitude emotions.

Later that day, in their hunger for the deserved acknowledgement, they reminded their son’s surgeon that it’s that special day. He’s a father too; he’ll know it.

A while later, when reality slowly started biting, she told him – I don’t think I’ll have my first Mother’s Day with him. And, you may not have your second.”  She was right!



4 thoughts on “In memory of a first & last Father’s Day”

  1. So very sorry for the loss of your beautiful Ayden. And so sorry for all the painful things you and your husband saw, the difficult decisions you must have had to make and the things no parent should have to do in caring for the child they love immeasurably. You are definitely a mother, and your husband a father. You became parents the minute the egg within you was fertilized and began dividing and growing in the relative safety of your womb. I know firsthand how others stand by helpless to know what to say and do and eventually quit talking about the son who still completely fills your heart and mind. My oldest child and only son was stillborn 25 years ago on Father’s Day. Although Cole’s Birthday doesn’t always fall on Father’s Day, they are forever intwined in my mind. In my mind Father’s Day is the day my son died. Some years it’s harder than others.

    In the 25 years since Cole was born, I have discover that no matter how many people forget or overlook him, he carries a legacy in this world. He is a mystery but his life impacted mine and my husband’s in ways that touch the outside world. I think differently, react differently, treat others, adults and children alike because of the love and life lessons I learned from anticipating his arrival to grieving his death. Your Ayden has a living legacy too. He changed you and your husband and his life had and still has value, in part just because he is yours!

    Thank you for stopping by boxxbanter. I hope we can be of help to each other.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Just had to chime in and say it was his first Father’s Day, but definitely not the last. He’s a father for life, carrying Ayden in his heart. And thank you for the reminder to wish people who find Mothers/Fathers Days difficult, because of the loss of a child or a parent!


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