This Juneteenth I'm celebrating my late father's strength and resilience. Here's why that's both incredible and extremely difficult.

• This year, Juneteenth falls on Father's Day.
• Juneteenth is uplifting in nature, but for some, celebrating the holiday might be difficult.

As celebrations erupted and cannons fired in 1776, my ancestors' freedom was not yet tangible.

That was the case until nearly 100 years later, on June 19, 1863, or what is now recognized as Juneteenth. While I grew up in the American South, I never learned about Juneteenth in school. Instead, I discovered the existence of Juneteenth on the internet.

Digesting this newfound information about my history was exhilarating, especially since President Joe Biden signed a bill to recognize Juneteenth as a federal holiday last year.

But this year, Juneteenth falls on the same day as Father's Day, which brings up a mix of emotions. My father, Lee Henry Williams, who I lovingly referred to as Pops, died in November. While the nature of Juneteenth feels celebratory and uplifting, how does one celebrate when grief is constantly knocking on the door?

Even though my knowledge of Juneteenth is relatively new, I always had the perfect representation of Black independence and strength: my father. He was the embodiment of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps. He and his wife, Phyllis Marie Williams, two south Georgians, started their construction business in the late 1970s. My father had no formal teachings or education, but he knew the definition of hard work and resilience.

For the first few years, my parents conducted business in two trailers. Wood vinyl covered the walls, yellow notepads were scattered on tables, and there sat my parents, high-school sweethearts, a Libra and a Capricorn.

They shared a vision to create a life for their future children that they could be proud of. Their business grew out of the trailers and into a larger space with conference rooms, private offices, bathrooms, and a kitchen. Lee H. Williams Construction Co. thrived. My father built houses, apartments, churches, schools — he did it all. I really miss him.

While I grieved my father, some days feel like Juneteenth and others feel like Father's Day. Sometimes, I feel celebratory of his legacy. On my worst days, I feel like a lost child who cannot find their parent in the grocery store. So there's a mix of emotions since these two holidays are on the same day this year.

Whenever I visited my father, we always settled into our old routine: sitting at the dinner table late at night, snacking on peanut brittle, and talking about our shared love of listening to Jimi Hendrix or watching Westerns. I'd tell him about my college studies, and he'd reminisce about where we came from, south Georgia. Among the usual dad-and-daughter experiences, we experienced tragedy together when we buried my mother in 2017.

That same year, my father was diagnosed with kidney disease. Every week, he sat in a chair for four hours while his blood was cleaned by a machine, and after school, I'd pick him up at 4 p.m. We'd often talk late in the evening or early in the mornings, whichever could accommodate his dialysis schedule. My father's work and dialysis appointments would never come between our bond. He was always there for me.

It's been nearly six months since I lost my father. The shock has lessened, but I sometimes feel incomplete, like a puzzle missing its final piece. My father instilled his Georgia-tough mindset in me, so it is not foreign for me to keep my head high and "keep it moving," as he would say.

When grieving, the most potent tool is memory. Memory can act as a double-edged sword, making you sad or happy. Juneteenth is a memory that emits a mixed bag of emotions because of how long injustice and brutality were tolerated. The joy in celebrating Juneteenth is remembering how far we have come.

Most of the memories of my father never cease to make me laugh. I still feel close to him, as if we just ended a phone call. I won't be able to call him for Father's Day, but at least my memories of him fill the gap.

If I were celebrating Father's Day this year with my father, I'd tell him about Juneteenth and how incredible it is to share a holiday that honors our ancestors. Then, I'd give him the gift he asked for each year, a card and a pair of new socks.

I plan on celebrating both Juneteenth and Father's Day this year. When I walk into a store and buy a new pair of socks for myself, I know I will embody the reasons I associated my father with Juneteenth: strength, power, and resilience.