A few days before Father’s Day, a very dear friend challenged me by saying she would adjust something in order to fit my “comfort level.” At first I was startled, but then I realized she spoke the truth. I could not deny how uncomfortable I felt. More thoughts surfaced: what if I am not as courageous and as bold as I thought? Am I not brave? Perhaps, bravery exists in my mind, and I am only a risk taker in my well-maintained comfort zone. Hmmm… Then it hit me! The problem lies within my comfort zone. So I began to examine my heart more closely.
Along with many others on Sunday June 19, my husband and I celebrated Father’s Day. We spent the day with my son and his family.
Here’s what I found in my heart: Every Father’s Day I am melancholy and sad. I have become desensitized to not having a relationship with my dad that most of time I am numb to it. I think about it, but I don’t let my thoughts linger for long.
If you’ve always had your dad in your life, then this blog will appear frivolous to you. However for everyone else, including those individuals who lived in the same house with their dad, but your relationship with him was unhealthy or non existent, I know the challenges you faced and I commend you for not giving up. If you did not let your circumstances defeat you, you are a winner in my book!
Although my parents divorced when I was an infant, I’ve always known my father. At a young age, I painfully learned he would not play an active role in my life. There were many unreturned telephone calls and several weekend visits my dad missed from spending time with my two older brothers and I.
Though I watched a lot of television as a youngster, there were no programs to give me a clear picture of how a black girl is raised by her black father. I grew up looking through my neighbors’ windows in order to steal a closer look. I was an adult before I fully understood the disadvantages of not growing up with a “daddy,” by observing others who did.
In Junior High and High School, there were Cotillions and Daddy Daughter School Dances. The Cotillions were for dads to present their girls’ properly to society, while they danced the night away with their little darlings. I was never in attendance because my father was not available to take me.
I wondered, Daddy, where are you?
If you’re wondering if my father is deceased, no. My father is very much alive. He is simply an absent father. Although I have spoken more with him in the past 10 years than ever before, he and I will never be able to recover the 40 plus prior years of my life.
I love and honor my father, because the Bible instructs me to. He is a terrific guy, quite the student and an avid reader. My father can speak with anyone regarding many subject matters with authority. He is charming, has a catchy laugh, and he is a good host.
This thought struck me this year, “I may never experience a closeness with my father that I’ve witnessed others have with theirs.” For some, he is their best friend, confidant, and protector. Particularly for the ladies, their dad is usually the first man they love. These daughters bring home their first serious boyfriends for daddy to give his stamp of approval.
My father was not that person in my life. He did not buy me my first car or diamond ring; nor has he ever helped me move into my own apartment or house, or mow my lawn. No, he never gave me a goodnight kiss at bedtime or scare away the monsters and boogeymen.
It took me years to understand what the enemy meant to destroy me, God turned it around for my good!! When I was thirty-two, I stopped “playing church” and met the Father of Fathers. The One I call Abba! He taught me how to forgive, to let go, to move on, to be strong, to help others, to be a witness of His forgiveness, to love unconditionally, to never feel left out and abandoned again, to hope for tomorrow, to give to others, to be an advocate and friend to those others throw away, and so much more…
He took me back through my life and showed me He was there with me all the time! Once He showed me He was the One who picked me up from the playground unharmed when I fell off my bike at a young age. I should’ve cracked my head, yet I walked away embarrassed and with only a small scratch on my leg.
I rose up early on June 19 thanking “Daddy God” for another year!!! I told Him I desire to celebrate Him every day, not just on the day the world decides it is Father’s Day.
Even though this year I was not with my father again for the holiday, I will continue to check in and call on him. This is not always a comfortable place for me, but my prayer is he will know I love him no matter what.
I choose love over rejection.
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Gurls Talk’n 