UPDATE Wednesday afternoon, June 13, 2018
Father's Day in the USA is coming up this weekend on Sunday, June 17th.
While this special day for fathers can be a bittersweet and emotional moment for FTMs and MTFs ... I think it is still a day that has significance and will affect transitioners in different and sometimes stressful ways.
For me, I was never a dad ...and my Father is still living. As I have stated in the past on several comments in my thread, he has never accepted my transition and after my more than 4 years of my transition journey, 3+ years of HRT,
and living Full Time for over 1-1/2 years he still will hardly speak to me and he still stubbornly calls me his son and uses my old dead male name when he rarely does talk to me on the phone ..... but, you know, he is still my Father and I do owe him respect for that. I wrote a poem to him last week and sent it in the mail it along with a Father's Day card.
He was a mechanic and a welder by trade so that will explain my phrasing in the poem. In my childhood I remembered how his big and strong hands comforted me and made my fears disappear.
Obviously with my transition and his continued nonacceptance there is an enormous strain in our relationship but he is still my Father and will always be my Father.
He is getting up there in age and his health is fading so I wanted to make certain that I have peace with him. Being so far away, I am unable, and perhaps I am unwilling (shame on me) to visit with him or talk to him very often.
So here is the poem I sent to him ... with this I am trying to make myself me feel better and hopefully it will speak to him as well.
To my Dad on Father's Day:
MY FATHER'S HANDS
They are big, rough and not rather handsome.
Many a time they have been smashed, broken, or burned,
Yet for me that have beauty untold.
For those hands are always giving to those in his path,
The silent way that he has.
When he takes my hand,
The cold around me is never remembered
For their warmth calms my nerves and insecure path.
So Father please remember how much I love you,
And those hands always there to comfort and give.
And thank you dear Lord for those rough and scarred hands
For without them no love would I feel.
-Your Loving Daughter,
Danielle