My dad drives me crazy. Not in an endearing, “Oh, Daaaad” TV-sitcom kind of way. More like a he-makes-me-want-to-punch-a-hole-in-a-wall feeling.
Every year, I dread Father’s Day. Friends post sweet photos and memories on Facebook of their fathers. They talk about the lessons their dads have taught them, how their dads inspire them, and how their dads are their best friends.
I have nothing like that to share. And it hurts.