Father’s Day was supposed to be about celebrating me. Instead, it broke me. While driving my 5-year-old daughter, Lily, home from preschool, she asked, “Daddy, can we invite my real dad to dinner?” I nearly drove off the road.
She went on—he visits when I’m at work, brings her chocolates, plays tea party, and Mommy cooks for him. I was shattered, but I didn’t react. I told her to invite him—secretly—as part of a “game.” Then I made a plan.