The Hardest Father's Day Ever

I drove back home to Salado TX for Father's Day. I figured at least one father in the family deserved to have a son present.

But my family attends a Spanish branch in the same building and at the same time an English ward meets. I grew up in that English ward, and its been a very, very long time since I've attended. So I sat in the back pew.

Naturally, the ward has changed. I recognize very few people. By the same token, very few people recognized me. At the conclusion of the Sacrament service, the deacons passed out the customary Father's Day gift. The deacon passing out the gifts to my row certainly didn't recognize me, and apparently didn't recognize me as a father. So the brother I shared a pew with got a gift. The brother right in front of me got a gift. I got nothing.

I've debated over the past 3 weeks whether it's harder to be a father without a family, or a family without a father. I'm sure most days it's the latter. But yesterday was tough. I miss my family.