The etymology of the word FATHER leads you to roots such as:
"Nourisher", "Protector", "Upholder".
I can honestly say that growing up I never had a father. Like many other young ladies I know, our mothers served as both Mother & Father. Bringing home the bacon AND cooking it up!! Many times feeding so many mouths with next to nothing meals that we learned to look to them as some kind of motherly magicians, miracle workers. Superhuman; able to solve any problem, heal any wounds and fill all voids... but are mothers truly able to fill the void of an absent father???
I guess one can say that having no father is better than one that is complacent or god-forbid... abusive in any way whether it be emotional or physical. BUT, I sometimes think: hey I would of taken whatever I could get; at least I could call it my own.
I always wonder how my life would have been different if I had an active father. One that took the time to talk to me about boys and books and how to balance the two. A father that had some kind of impact on my life. How could I know what a man's love to a woman should or should not look like if I had no images from my own household to measure others up to? In a way I kind of feel like I was winging it all my life when it came to issues of the other sex. I have to thank God that I was blessed with sooo many strong, independent, loving mothers around me that most of the time I didn't notice the lack of a male presence. (To further drive home the issue of the non-existent father figure, only one of these many women were married; the others ALL single mothers.) This went unnoticed for ONE because I was young, happy and healthy and just wasn't aware enough to realize the impact of this absence and TWO because when I did finally realize the yearning that I had for a father figure I filled that void with so much resentment that I suffocated any feelings that tried to surface of wanting/needing him around.
I actually have a memory of spending the night by my dad's house one night and crying my miserable little self to sleep because I missed my mommy so much. His house was a foreign place to me. It was unfamiliar and unfamiliar meant unsafe. I guess because of results like this from his failed attempts to peek into my life, he didn't try harder. But SHAME ON HIM!!! If he was doing his job from the go there would be no reason for me to feel insecure around him.
Sometimes I try to cast him in a different light and remind myself that there are two sides to every story. Maybe for reasons unknown to me he couldn't be in my life as much as he wanted to. But then vague memories step in and I remember him sending a few dollars to my mom every now and then. Maybe enough for an outfit or two. And I remember him stopping by my grandmother's house to visit, once in a blue moon. After a while I realized that the door was wide open for him to be a part of my life in any capacity he so chose... and he chose the DEADBEAT path.
Now, family members reading this may think, hey, I remember your father taking you to see a couple Broadway plays... and... didn't he sew several graduation dresses for you? (My father is an established tailor, yes... fashion is in the blood -- see how even now amidst all the resentment I can't help but want to connect myself to him) BUT what's a graduation dress when you had NO part in the molding of the mind that met this accomplishment? It's superficial, it's not the stuff that matters.
Fathers STOP thinking that just because you come out of pocket for a couple things that you are doing your job!
Forehead kisses when your child is sick, pet names for your son/daughter, your little quirks, the words that you share when they need to hear it, the way you look at them when they make you proud or disappoint... THOSE are the things that count! That's what they will cherish when it's all said and done.
Now I say all of that to say this... what do I do now? In the twilight of his life my father is making the most effort that I can remember, to be a part of my life. I get phone calls, and lunch dates whenever he's in the country (he relocated but was here for most of my life). Imagine that! I want to bring myself to ask why now? Now, I don't know if this was his plan all along, or if it is a way to make amends with the mistakes he's made in the past, for his own selfish reasons.
And so we come right back to that Agape love that keeps no record of wrong doing.. the ever present, ever-forgiving love... that allows a daughter to accept her "father"'s love 26 years after she first yearned for it, needed it, expected it and deserved it!
I guess I can say better late than never, right!?! Well, I do still love my dad and I intend to make the best of the hand I was dealt.
So... Happy Fathers Day to all the real Father's out there. The Nourishers, Protectors and Upholders that are an irreplaceable part of their children's life. The men that don't allow anything to prevent them from standing up to the plate!
I understand that life places many obstacles in the way of seemingly simple things but I believe that where's there's a will there's a way and it all boils down to choice.
I respect you all!!
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