Father’s Day 2023 will be different for me.

On past Father’s Days, I would have grabbed two cards - probably last minute. One card for my dad and one card for my stepdad. 

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t always thrilled about going out to deliver the cards on those Father’s Days. Not because I didn’t love them. I was just plain lazy.

This year I don’t have to worry about grabbing and delivering cards.  Unfortunately.

Both of my dads passed away in 2022. Edward “Preacher” Green died on August 19 and Jimmy Taylor died on December 1.

I had a lot going on during that time period. I was directing “12 Angry Jurors” at the Fly, hosting a Halloween night at the Fly, and directing “Clue” at the Fly. Yes, I might as well have a bed there. But the Fly has gotten me through some very tough times and this period was no exception.

August of 2022 also held many blessings for this Gigi. My grandson, Myles, turned one on the 12^th, and my granddaughter, Tinsley, made her appearance on the 18^th. 

My dad didn’t ever get to hold Tinsley, but I’m thankful he did see a picture of her before he passed away the very next day.

I was so busy during those months, that losing them was nothing short of surreal. I could not comprehend that I would no longer be able to pick up the phone and call my dad to tell him about my latest problem or wacky experience or just chat about one of our animals, our health, or sometimes about a death.

I still thought I’d be able to walk into the house next door and see my stepdad sitting in his recliner and asking me how to do something on his Facebook page or with his flip phone. Yes, a flip phone. I don’t know how many times Jimmy told me during a conversation, “Don’t go putting that on Facebook!” But, once he was on Facebook, he realized it was another way for him to satisfy his nosiness.

Jimmy came into my life when I was in my late teens. He and Mom married when I was 20 years old. For the first few years, I think Jimmy and I just tolerated each other. And we enjoyed irritating each other.

He was always there to fix my car or whatever part of my house that needed fixing. Mostly because Mom probably made him. If he wasn’t on his golf cart, he was on the lawn mower. Our yards stayed immaculate. Now, that does not mean he did not gripe about mowing my yard, but no way was he letting me drive his precious mower!

Things between us changed significantly when my daughter, Jordan, was born.

Jordan trying to say “Grandaddy,” said “Dadat” instead. From then on, we called him Dadat. The two of them were tight. Now he had a partner in crime riding with him on the golf cart. She had him wrapped around her little finger. The man that would never let anyone tell him what to do, suddenly, was ruled by a little girl.

Jimmy and I became closer. We became friends. We bonded over the love we both had for Jordan and my mother. We chatted and laughed a lot. Sometimes at my mom’s expense. (Sorry, Mom.)

By the time Jimmy left us, I knew he loved me. And I loved him. He was a father to me. And a good one.

My dad and I had also become closer after I became a parent. Just like with Jimmy, there were things we didn’t see eye to eye on, but it didn’t matter. He was my Daddy.

He was the man who had carried me on his shoulders as a child. If anyone hurt me and he found out about it, there was no doubt in my mind that he would have tracked them down like Liam Neeson in the movie Taken.

He was the man who liked to scare me and my friends as kids. Once by wearing an old, creepy man mask and walking into the middle of a group of us at my Halloween party. And another time by pulling over on the side of a dark road under a big tree to tell us a “true” story about a dead man hanging from that tree whose wife in the car could hear his nails scratching the roof.

This year, there seem to be way more advertisements for this gift or that gift “that any dad would want for Father’s Day”, more signs that read “Shop here for Dad,” and more commercials with little kids hugging their dads.

It’s all becoming clearer. More real. I can’t call my dad anymore and I can’t walk into the house next door and see my stepdad in his recliner.

I was so lucky to have both of those men as fathers.

So, do me a favor. When you grab a card this year and deliver it to your dad, spend a little more time with him. Listen to what he says. Ask him questions about his childhood, his family, anything. Because, one day you will not have him to ask. That one day could very well be tomorrow.

And please, say a quick little prayer for those of us who have lost our fathers.