It's Father's Day again, and as I scroll through my news feed I am touched by all of the heartfelt Fathers Day sentiments and aged photos of smiling dads. I am happy for my friends and yet a small thread of envy has laced itself around my heart. I wish I too could share a moment of devotion between my father and I. I would like to share photos of my father and I arm in arm, or fishing, or hanging out at a barbecue and other bonding moments captured for eternity. The truth is I cant. But I did find a generic picture I will use instead. To be clear, my father hasn't passed away from this life - he simply passed on mine. I don't share this fact to solicit sympathy, I am merely reflecting on the past and the role I played to a father who was, at best, distant. The facts are fixed in time. They are history. However, the ebb and flow of emotions this day conjures for me aren't quite as simple. Even though I was never close to my father he is the first man to ever break my heart. If I could tell him anything right now, wherever he may be, it's that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you couldn't see that I needed to know you and I needed you to help me know myself before anyone had the opportunity to label me. I'm sorry you do not understand the fear and concern of not knowing if the children you helped create are breathing, eating, safe and secure. I'm sorry you don't realize that a man that puts himself last does not abandon the souls of his flesh. I’m sorry that you missed out on something and someone so great. I'm sorry you didn't realize that you would have lost nothing by being in my life. Thank you dad for not being there when I needed you most. Thank you for making me become a man when I stepped into the shoes you left behind and put the broken pieces back together. Thank you for the pain of needing someone who was never there because without that pain I wouldn’t know healing, I wouldn’t know love, and I would not know God.