This is my first fatherless Father's Day. 

It's doubly weird because my father's birthday was last week. The first birthday since his birth that he missed. 

I sold my house a couple of days before Father's Day.  

A fatherless Father's Day isn't entirely a bad thing. It could also be Freedom Day. Because no matter how much you swore you'd never live for your father, and no matter how much he swore he wouldn't make you live for him, it happened anyway.  

Giving up on the paternal judgment is like giving up smoking in some ways.  

Oh, btw, I just realized June 14 was my anniversary. Eight years. I completely missed it. Sign of a truly reformed smoker. 

But in my first year as a non-smoker, when my thought process came to a vexing problem, it would snap to: Oh I'll just smoke a cigarette, and I'd move on to the next step. I'd probably grab a cigarette at that point, for good luck. 

I can't tell you how many times, on accomplishing something, no matter how small, my mind would snap to: Call Dad. Tell him about it.  

It's like losing an uncle only worse. When my uncle died, I felt like I lost an arm. It was that big a deal. Part of my support system was gone. But with a father, it's a leg. Sometimes it's both legs.  

But as you get used to it, the snap-to fades. And what replaces it is freedom. Not entirely bad, as I said earlier.  

My father told me about it when his father died. It was then he told me not to wait for him to pass to take my leave of his judgment. Didn't matter. Couldn't do it. Didn't. 

The last few weeks have been irritating. Messages from Amazon, every damned day reminding me to buy him a gift. What are you going to do. Forget it and move on.