What It Means to Be a Father

I'm estranged from my own father. I haven't spoken to him in more than a decade. I haven't wanted to. There hasn't been a day in those last ten years where I've felt like I was missing out on anything. It's funny looking back on it, because in my opinion, it happened gradually, that is my not wanting to be involved in my father's life. I never felt much of a connection to him. I can count the number of times on one hand I actually called him "dad". "Dad"? It's such a weird thing for me to think of calling him.

I don't hate him. He wasn't abusive to me, at least he didn't hit me. And only a few times did he scream at me or bring me to tears. I can think of the last time he did bring me to tears; I was talking on the phone with my mother, telling her I was ready to leave my father's place for the weekend, and he stood behind me and started shouting, "tell her to shut up! tell her to shut up!" I don't know what he was thinking. He thought it was funny. That was his kind of sense of humor I guess, belittling people. I broke down, and I cried into the phone. Quickly, like a kid who realizes he's done something wrong, he kept hopping around apologizing and telling me I could have friends over next time I visited: because well, he never encouraged me to have friends over or have birthdays at his house or Christmas there or anything. So, being the age I was at the time, around 12 I think, I just kind of thought to myself my father is a big kid.

I was always terrified of my father. I don't know why. Like I said, he never hit me, but I guess in the back of my head I always thought he would. For awhile, my mom had a boyfriend, and I lived with the two of them. Her boyfriend turned mean, and he hated me. I was a teenager, and he was convinced I was always on drugs. Ironically, I've never used drugs, not even tried them. This guy, he was probably 3 or 4 inches taller than my father and built like a rock, pure muscle. And me, a 15 year old scrawny kid who was 120lbs soaking wet, I used to stand right up to him when he made the accusations. I never backed down. He was somebody I should have been afraid of, thinking back, so why wasn't I? And why was I so afraid of my father instead? It just makes me realize I never want my daughter to be afraid of me, not ever. I'll discipline her. I'll keep her in line, but I'll always make sure she knows she can come to me, whenever she needs to, that I'll always be there for her.

I know I'm all over the place, as I'm writing this, but that's how my mind is working right now. I'm thinking back to when I was little. I would call my father each weekend, set up when I'd visit, and then my mom would drive me over. When I kind of decided I didn't really want to see him anymore, I just stopped calling. He didn't call me back either. Years passed, and then he made a weak effort to reconcile with me by buying me some things. What was there to buy me? The thing is, I didn't hate or resent him. I just didn't really want to know him. And I look back, and I think he mustn't have really wanted to know me. If Baby J. grows up and some day (and she will as all teenagers do) goes through a period where she doesn't talk to me, I'm going to find out why. I'm going to sit down with her. And I'm going to work it out. But I won't let her drift out of my life.

The last I ever hear is my father resents me. He's angry I never called him, that I didn't invite him to my graduation or my wedding. But why would I? I know there are a lot of people who stick by the adage "honor thy father" but I think it's a two-way street. That's my opinion on it. If I felt like he wanted to be a part of my life, maybe I would have tried harder to be a part of his. He had parental visitation rights. He had every right to order me over to his house, to stop by for a visit, to pick up the phone and find out what was wrong with his son, why his son felt such a disconnect with him. But he never did. He thinks I was jealous, attention starved, etc. But that wasn't it. Jealous of what? And if I was starved for attention, wouldn't I do everything in my power to see him? Wouldn't I be like a constant lap dog wishing for his approval? Instead, I never wanted his approval, I never needed it. I didn't care what he thought. And I've spent more than ten years assuming he never cared what I thought.

So, finally, I come to the point of this article. What does it mean to be a father? Fathers these days, thank God, are a lot more involved than they used to be. I know a few dads who treasure every moment with their kids, who I imagine would never let their kids drift apart from them. I think being a father means:

• Full, 100% commitment to your kids. Know them. Understand them. Do everything in your power to know every facet of your child's life.
• Financially supporting your children. Encouraging their interests.
• Taking responsibility for your child. Disciplining them. Teaching them.
• Interact with your children, involve their friends and other family members, don't sit them down and ostracize them from the rest of the world.

I don't know how my father measures his parenting skills. I think he's twisted it all up in his mind, and he's come to see me as a spoiled brat. I think it helps him sleep better when he doesn't hear the phone calling him. But you know, looking back at the list, at the third item, maybe that's why my father never felt like a father. He didn't discipline me or make me feel like I was in a controlled environment. I always felt like visits with him were utter chaos. I would go home stressed, and I would be a jerk to my mom for a few hours. I remember my mom one time, bringing me home from his house and saying, "Why do you always act up when you come back from his place?" And it was true, I did. I always acted up for a couple hours until I got it out of my system. Maybe it's something about hanging out with a big kid for two days that does that to a person.

I came to realize, at some point, I didn't like the way I was around him, and I didn't like being around him. I hope more than anything Baby J. will never feel that way about me.

D.