I don’t know about you, but when I was growing up I always felt semi guilty on father’s day. I always felt like I wasn’t a good son. I never heard from my father that I wasn’t a good son, nor did he ever feel that way. I just never felt I gave him a reason to consider me a good son.
This feeling resurfaced after many years of not giving a fuck whether I was a good son or not. When I became a father. I spent so much time thinking about myself, that when father’s day rolled around, I focused on what I hadn’t done. What I hadn’t provided. The memories I robbed my son of. The time I spent foolishly. The pain I caused. The tears I produced.
The fear I instilled.
My idea of being a father was discipline. Physical or otherwise. I was a piece of shit. I was a high and drunk piece of shit. I did things to my own children (my step son included) that you wouldn’t do to an enemy. The lies I told, disgraceful. My behavior was inexcusable. I later discovered that I acted the way I did because I was selfish. Because I didn’t get what I wanted. Because you didn’t act the way I thought you should act. I took my frustrations and self pity out on you, them and everyone.
This morning I woke up to my youngest son shuffling around in his crib. I checked the time. I grabbed my phone, with my vision a bit fuzzy and read “7:05”. I hopped right up, walked over to his crib and just watched him. He rolled over several times, finally pausing on his stomach for a second and picked his head up. He looked away from me, then looked in my direction. He looked up and saw me, and smiled as big as his face would allow. He smiles all the time. He laughs all the time.
I scooped him up and walked in my oldest son’s room. The lights were out and the TV was on. I laid my baby next to him, and heard “Happy Father’s Day!”
It was from the mouth of my step son. It made my eyes tear up. This child has every reason to never speak to me again, but for the last year or so, I have been doing everything in my power to make right the harm I caused him. When I heard that, it made me feel like it has been working. My oldest son quickly followed suit.
I changed diapers, fed children, cleaned up, did everyday things. I called my father.
Today is no different than any other day, which is good. Because today was another strong example that G-d is working in my life.