This is my first Father’s Day without a father. Then again, most have been without him, but this is the first since he passed.
He moved across the country over 30 years ago to rejoin my estranged mother (they’d been separated for more than a decade by then), and I hadn’t seen him since. We always got along fine. He was motivated, health conscious, kind to animals. I never once heard him raise his voice. I would have liked to have seen him again, would have liked to have a Dad in my life to care how I was doing, to be proud of the person I became, to see how his influence guided my choices. But whatever his reasons, he was always emotionally distant, so the miles hardly mattered.
I don’t fault him for moving on. I believe a parent’s only true obligation is to give their child the skills, courage, confidence and values to navigate life on their own, then let them fly. Any continuing relationship beyond that is voluntary. Also, I understand deeply how his uncaring mother made him withdrawn, because I’ve been through the same. It breaks parts of you that never recover. When he died, my mother sent me an envelope – some childhood photos, and his birth and death certificates. His birth certificate, with tiny footprints, showed only the time and signing doctor. His mother hadn’t bothered to fill it out.
So, I understand the distance. I understand the self doubt, the distrust, the hole in your identity that comes from a caustic parent. And I’m thankful that he tried his best, I know he did. And I’m grateful for the few connections we were able to find. I only wish he knew that while he thought he didn’t know how to parent, I was watching from outside his bubble – his strength and vulnerability, his reasoning and recklessness, his desperation and determination – and learning how to be human.
The journaling prompt I chose to crystalize his memory was “Describe Dad in his legendary moment.”
I gave it some deep thought, what was my dad’s legendary moment? He was a firefighter, a bodybuilder, a protector, a music lover with irreverent wit and a kind heart with a high wall around it. But the image that came to mind was one perfect moment when all was well with the world. A sentimental wave washed over me, building the scene in my mind…
He’s just relaxing in the backyard, quietly enjoying the life he created. Every choice he had made in life led up to that chance to lay back under the trees. His wife brings a glass of wine. His daughter plays with the ducklings in the freshly mown grass at his side, and unbeknownst to him, she observes that the meaning of life lies in such quiet moments of satisfaction, and the effort it takes to get there. Because it’s not just about the soft sun on your face. It’s about the sense of accomplishment, the determination to take control of your life and get yourself exactly where you want to be, where time stops for one glorious Summer evening.
