Before I begin, I guess I should just start with this
caveat/disclaimer that it is not my intention to upset anybody who may read
this, but sometimes folk can get a little uneasy about telling public secrets.
I would just say this: I'm not ashamed of my past, and simply, "it is what
it is."
It is fair to say that I grew up primarily without my father
for a variety of reasons. Some of which being that my parents had a very
traumatic divorce, my foster grandparents thought he was a bad influence, and
he was just generally negligent. I can't say that he didn't try, because
he paid child support regularly. And, there are a few snapshots in my
childhood and adolescence that I remember quite vividly.
While I don't remember him being present for any birthday, I
do remember him bringing presents to my foster grandparents house, and being
turned away on sight. And when I asked who that was...they replied, "Some
man who had the wrong address." While he never attended one
graduation (and I have three collegiate degrees and HS diploma), I do remember
him bringing clothes to my mother's house in preparation for school, at which
my mother said, "Sean doesn't need those cheap hand-me-downs."
While my father has never seen me preach, he once came to church to hear me
sing (and he has never been the church type). Even though he did not
attend my wedding, I did stay with him for a summer when things had gotten to a
breaking point with my mother...but you know how people like child support
checks. LOL What I'm getting at is that there were places in my life
where my father was present.
Unfortunately, we've had much longer stints of
absence. Until my mother's passing in January of 2009, I had not seen or
talked to him since 1998...more than twenty years had passed. I'm not
passing any kind of judgment, but needless to say, Father's day is kind of
well...hard.
Don't get me wrong, I am thankful that I know my father, and
that I have moments that I count as positive memories/encounters. But, I
must admit that I'm like a lot of Black men and women I know who struggle with
how to handle Father's Day (and honestly life). Some of us, who had
really amazing mothers, are thankful for those sacrifices! Others of us,
had amazing grandparents (me included), and so we can't imagine a life without
them. And with some disappointment, I have friends who only have friends,
that they consider to be stronger then any blood relationship. If I'm
talking about me, it has been a mix of deceased loving grandparents (maternal
and foster), amazing aunts and uncles (maternal), and "ride or die"
friendships that often makeup for delinquent parents.
Unfortunately, sometimes there are still deep crevices where pain exists...
When people say, "it takes a village to raise a
child," I know firsthand what that looks like! But, I also know that
when father's (and mother's) don't seek to raise their children, it creates
strain on all relationships, inhibits esteem, and provokes a sad resignation
built on unknowing. What I mean by this is that when children don't have
relationships with their father's, they must come to depend on other family
members to learn and grow and be supported. And when this happens, Uncles
and Grandparents and Brothers often take up the slack, creating dynamics that
often result in unintentional consequences between family members.
As the oldest of seven, I have often had to play the role of
provider, disciplinarian, and fixer for my siblings, which has meant that our
sibling relationship isn't always one of confidante and friend and
adviser...because they are trying to hide things from me. They love to call
me when they are in trouble...and these roles are traditionally things I would
attribute to the role of a father.
Too, I have an uncle who has been my biggest advocate...who
I talk to before I make any major decision. I know that there have been times when he has
stepped in on my behalf, creating some challenging family dynamics between I
and my cousins (his children) and my mother too. It's definitely all love
now, but when we were younger...we had sibling rivalries like the ones you find
in the Bible. I can’t imagine from his vantage point how hard it was to
explain to his family why he was taking me to college, paying for plane tickets
home, allowing me access to his house and cars, and just being there
faithfully, when his own children needed him. I can't imagine being in
their shoes either. If the shoe were on the other foot, I wonder would I
have been as gracious. But if he had not been there, I would have
been lost!!!!
As great as my uncle is, it doesn't replace the areas where
he just couldn't go. He couldn't tell me about my father's family (which I'm
now trying to find and learn). He couldn't tell me how he fell in and out
of love with my mother. He couldn't share with me how to rebound when a
girl doesn't like me...or to teach me all the signs of when she does indeed
like me. He couldn't show me how to shoot with my left hand (because, I
like my father, am left handed). He couldn't help me develop the kind of
esteem that is necessary for living in this world.
Many a brother (or a sister for that matter) learns their
value from fathers. And when they are absent, sporadically present, or
emotionally unavailable, we learn some very unhealthy coping mechanisms.
We learn not to ask for help when we are struggling, because no one is there to
help. We learn to over-invest in relationships/people who show us just a
modicum of love and support, even to our detriment. Some of us learn to
be cocky and arrogant in response to having no one: it literally is
"Encourage Yourself" on crack. And, some of us learn to give up
before we've even started. I believe all of us get upset when we are made
aware of the difference for us and the rest of the world. It's little
things like not being able to ask for advice, not being able to participate in
father/son days, its the “in spite of attitude” that has gotten us through
lack. For me its been when I've needed a provider, supporter, confidante,
and mentor with just a bit more wisdom and investment in me that I've been so
very angry and distraught at an absent father. And, it's Father's Day.
Not that I think Father's Day should be abolished, I just
wish that there were more Father's I could celebrate. I really wish I
could celebrate my own father. But his living and making me isn't enough
to make me call, send cards, and buy gifts...all of those things I love to do.
And, I think its hard for many a man-child to come to terms
with this kind of loss and grief. So many of us have never been to the
movies with our father, or had him play games with us, or had him cook for us,
or shared anything other than the occasional monetary provision. So, I
mourn the loss of my father even as he lives. I grieve every time he
failed to be present for me…because I just believe I would be a better, more
whole man, had he been what God called him to be...and who God called him to
be. And, it is very difficult to put in words the kind of grief and loss
I am feeling.
One time, my pastor Charles Goodman, sought to explore the
grief and loss of a living father on youth Sunday, as he explored the narrative
of Abraham and Ishmael. While his words pierced the air, the emotion
beneath the words for many of us began to pierce our hearts. I had been
directing the teen choir that Sunday, and I can remember at first tears began
streaming down the eyes of every youth in the choir, and then there was moaning
because my youth began to see themselves inside the story. As parents
struggled to comfort those kids that morning, all of sudden, the men of the
church began to cry and weep openly. I suspect that some of us found ourselves
as abandoned sons like the Old Testament's Ishmael who was banished and abandoned
in a wilderness. And, others found themselves to be Abraham, one who had
forsaken his firstborn. But men and children, in particular, were weeping
at the loss of relationship. Until that moment, I, among them, had never
cried openly about what, I too, was feeling about my own father.
I remember the language not being clean and neat, but the
message being tough, real, and life-changing. This is the story of a
fatherless son...for there is no easy language for children who have lived (and
made a life) in spite of a father. And, when people tell you with
all that beautiful God-conscious rhetoric, "but you have a Father in
heaven," it can sometime seem like an oppressive statement that really
says, "Shut up, and stop complaining about your lot in life."
I just hope that I'm not one who says such things, when I consider
my own experiences, even when I know those words to be true. I believe
that the messiness of life can't be easily explained in 7 word retorts, because
restoration doesn't happen with seven words. It happens in chapters of
life. It happens when people are allowed to grieve and love. It
happens when people are allowed to share their story, and their journey, and
their hurt and eventually their healing. It need not provoke a spirit of
pity; however, it should invoke a spirit of understanding. And we should
be encouraged to remember on days like Father's day, that there are quite a few
children (young and old) struggling with
how they should make sense of this kind of day. I don't know what to say,
but I'm hoping God's paraclete - God's Holy Spirit - knows how to comfort on
days like that...and how to comfort on the day after.
