Miraculously, this is my third Father's Day without the XMan, and I majorly miss him. I've heard that time heals all wounds, and I have accepted the fact that he is gone. However, the XMan's death was my personal "tsunami," and anyone who's had a true profound loss may have an inkling of the overwhelming involuntary feelings one might have on, say, Father's Day.
One thing that tears me up is my newfound addiction to golf and the fact that I can't play with him. I guess every round I play, and every stroke I take, is a homage to him. I've advanced enough in the sport to play bogey golf, and there are a handful of things I do on the course that he did exactly.
One of those things is to frequently say the phrase, "Roll your buns off." I also harpoon the flag stick off the green, if anyone takes it out and leaves it on the green. I also make a crude comparison if I ever see a player putting with a golf glove.
I spent 12 years going to Catholic school and numerous masses, and like approximately 95 percent of the people I know in my demographic, I don't go to Church now and can't accept the Catholic church's antiquated social positions. I have no clear-cut answer of what I believe in regards to spirituality, but I do live by my Jesuit high school's motto: "Men for others."
The XMan is with me everyday. If you want to call that spirituality, that is fine, and I understand that all of us have deal with things we don't want to. I am only one of 7 billion people on this planet. Who am I to blow against the wind?