Tomorrow would have been Ash’s 10th Father’s Day. Due to unfortunate circumstances, however, it appears that he will be missing it, as well as all the rest of them moving forward. I’ve been trying to wrack my brain to remember how the hell we celebrated the last 9 and I’m coming up empty. I’m certain we ate fried seafood for most of them, I’m certain there were some boat days and some beach days and I’m certain that Ash always got a little spoiled because that’s what I do. I love to spoil my loves. But for the life of me, I have no vivid memories of Father’s Day, no humorous anecdotes, no nothing of significance.

I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring. My parents and my brother are coming for dinner at my house. My brother is going to grill while I prepare the sides. No seafood this year. No Ash this year. No father to Jack and Colt. Will they notice? Will they be sad? I’m betting that they will not. To them, it’s just another day, a day not dedicated to really celebrating them, so what do they care? And I don’t mean that negatively, it’s just the nature of children – they like to be the ones celebrated and spoiled. One day, years down the road though, they will understand what they’ve been missing and they will feel the hurt of that loss.

Ash and I had 2 children together (duh!) and he was a good father to both of them, though rather different to both of them. Jack being the first born, Ash was always super hard on him, his expectations were always extremely high and he was a little thin on patience where Jack was concerned. Colt, being the baby of the family, had it a little easier. Ash was more easy going with him, the expectations were lower and the patience was higher (unlike, say, me who has no patience for anything!!). We were pretty young when we had Jack (just short of 5 months after we got married – oopsies!!) and we were terrified, neither of us ever really being around babies before. Nursing proved to be more difficult than anticipated and I remember one night we were talking to Ash’s brother and wife, and I was crying because of all the damn boob pain from all the damn milk. Ash was pretty tight with money and had declared a breast pump a frivolous expense. God bless Uncle Randy and Aunt Stacey. They let Ash have it a little bit and within 10 minutes, at 9 pm, in central Texas, I left my newborn and husband and carried my exhausted ass to Target and bought the best damn breast pump money could buy!!

Giving birth to Colt was a bit different. First of all, he was in the plans, not just a happy surprise. My pregnancy was much easier (I had preeclampsia with Jack), he got to come on his own terms (Jack had to be induced) and Ash and I *sort of* knew what we were getting ourselves into. I was in labor with Colt for what felt like days. Probably because it was days. But the night of his arrival, we had taken Jack to football, gone out for pizza after and then gone home to watch a movie – The Desolation of Smaug. All the while, I was having more and more contractions while Ash insisted it was probably nothing. I remember pacing around our bedroom while he watched that damn movie, feeling more pain by the minute. I eventually went to the bathroom and realized it was time to freaking go. I came out of the bathroom, told Ash to get his shit together coz we had to roll and you know what he said to me. That ass said “sit tight, Kellie, you’ll be fine, let me just finish this movie, there’s only 30 minutes left.” I shit you not. Apparently God was on my side that night though because no sooner had Ash said those words, the fucking credits started rolling. We got to the hospital just in time for an epidural. Apparently if we had been any later, it would have been too late and Ash probably would have left this world a lot sooner than he did. Kidding. Sort of.

It feels good to remember those funny stories. While I may not remember any specific Father’s Day fiascos, we have plenty of others to look back on. Ash was a good dad. He was funny, adventurous, kind, over the top tough at times and over the top lenient at times. He taught the boys and me so much, he loved us like hell and would have done near about anything to make us happy. We weren’t perfect but we mostly did our best. Happy Father’s Day to my love in heaven. Tonight I drink a Shiner in my Jonesie’s honor and remember all the good, bad and ugly that made us, well, us.