Father's Day.

Father's Day was yesterday. And I survived. Barely.

If anyone doesn't already know, my dad passed away almost four years ago. Four years seems like a long time on paper, but, really, sometimes it still feels like it happened yesterday.



I was scheduled to work yesterday. I thought it wouldn't be a problem. I was kind of looking forward to it so I could keep busy and not think about it.

Wrong.

My first table was a father and his three daughters. They had cards for him and were treating him to a Father's Day dinner. When I was with them, I was fine. But everytime I walked away from the table, my chest would get tight and I couldn't breathe. It also didn't help that I was so distracted that I forgot to put their appetizer in. Like, completely forgot. So their meals come out and the dad asks me what happened to their wings. Of course I realize what happened. I go put the order in and tell the cook to make them as fast as he can. I went back to Grace, the manager on duty, and told her about it in case she wanted to go talk to them and apologize. And while I was talking to her I completely broke down into a full on panic attack.



She was completely understanding about everything. She went out and brought the wings to the table and told them what was going on and that another server would be taking over. And then she just told me to clock out. She said that if she had any idea, she would have never scheduled me on that day. I honestly thought I would be fine, otherwise I would have said something about working on Father's Day.

So, Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I hope where ever you are you're still proud of me and that you know that I think about you every day and miss you.