Boy, does that phrase trigger memories of my daughter’s death by abortion. Twenty-seven years later, the painful memories still come flooding back. Mary Beth and I were walking through the big department stores in the mall. It was the Saturday before Father’s Day. People were shopping for their fathers and with their fathers. Stacks of bright sport shirts, ties and golf clothing were everywhere. Large posters with pictures of handsome, happy fathers holding their beautiful children hung all over the stores.
I remember feeling as though my soul twisted and s napped. Father’s Day was very painful that year. It was as if it slammed into me and made me face that I had done; what no father should ever do – participate in the death of his firstborn daughter. How could I have denied my daughter her life? How could I have agreed to the abortion and paid for it? It was less than a month since my daughter had been aborted.
I carried that pain and guilt in secret all for many years. I never spoke to anyone about the abortion, and although I have told some family members and attended a ministry, I still have not been able to tell my own Dad about his granddaughter who was aborted.
I pray to God the Father for the grace to tell my Dad. I pray for the grace of continued healing. I pray that St. Joseph – Father of the Holy Family – leads all fathers of aborted children to God’s ministers of mercy. I also thank God for the privilege of being a father to three children in heaven, and one on earth. Lastly, I thank Him for the gift of my Dad and the loving example of fatherhood that he has given me.
May God Bless all father’s this Father’s Day. -T
