Daddy Lessons

According to Merriam-Webster, a father is a man who has begotten a child. According to the dictionary of me, a daddy is a man who has actively contributed to the development of a child he helped create through being a caregiver, protector, provider, teacher, friend, etc..

"And he taught me to be strong
He told me when he's gone
Here's what you do

When trouble comes to town

And men like me come around

Oh, my daddy said shoot

Oh, my daddy said shoot"

Daddy Lessons, Beyoncé

I recently listened to an episode of one of my favorite podcasts, Gettin' Grown titled Daddy Lessons where the hosts Jade and Keia, along with their guests, Crissle and Fran, discussed and reflected on their experiences and relationships with their fathers from childhood into adulthood. Needless to say, it inspired this post. I want to preface this by saying that this is not meant to bash or make my father out to be a terrible person. The intention of this is to share my experience, feelings, and revelations in reference to the relationship or lack thereof I have with the man who contributed to my existence.

The relationship with our parents is often one of the most impactful relationships we experience in our lifetime. I grew up without my father present. As far back as I can remember, my father never had an active role in my life, except being actively absent. I remember my mother creating opportunities for me to have some interaction with him, whether it was tracking down his phone number for a phone call or taking me to see him.

As you could probably assume, his absence caused me a lot of feelings. For a long time I wasn't aware of how his absence affected me. I don't really remember being a young child and wondering why everyone had a daddy and I didn't. As a grew older and became more aware of the world around me, I began to notice the differences between my immediate family and those of my cousins and friends. Still, it wasn't a big deal. Or so I thought. I do remember around the time I was eight years old, there was a night in November that my mama took me to see him because he was sick. I'll never forget this day because I'm pretty sure that was the last time I saw him. I walked in the room and he couldn't even look me, his child, in the face.

Once I got to high school and made friends, I noticed that my closest of friends had two parent households, with a daddy who was active and engaged in their daughter's lives. If I'm being honest, I was jealous. This is when the anger set in. I wasn't angry at them for what they had, but with myself because of what I didn't have. I started questioning my worth, because "what did I do that made him (my father) not want to be with me?".  That question evoked feelings of sadness in addition to the anger. If you asked my best friend about my demeanor in high school, she'd probably tell you that I seemed angry most of the time. I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I didn't know my hurt was that visible. This was around the time I started referring to him as my sperm donor, because that had been his only contribution. I think around junior year of high school my mama came up with the idea to find him again, which we did and drove the hour plus (shout out to my friend who came along for the ride) to his residence. Of course he wasn't there, so I wrote a letter and left it. I never heard from him in regards to that note. At this point, I was done with him. Because if he didn't want to be in my life, why should I as the child be the one attempting to build a relationship? So I completed high school without any acknowledgement from him.

Fast forward to my early college years, my mother found a number for him and I now had a means of communicating with him. The timing of this was weird, he entered my life a month before I lost my uncle, a father figure in my life, to a freak car accident. I entertained conversations with him, but honestly I couldn't have cared less about any and everything he had to say. The feelings of anger, sadness, and unworthiness resurfaced throughout all of this. For six years, I entertained his phone calls. Most of the time he was trying to be the father I thought I needed and wanted when I was child. But as an adult, the shit was honestly annoying.

Over the past couple of years, I got to a point where I wanted more from him than his fatherly antidotes and surface level conversation. I began asking the tough questions about the brother I know exists but don't have a relationship with, other family members, and why he wasn't around to raise me. I had been wanting to ask these questions for years. But it wasn't until I was in my early twenties that I discovered the courage to ask them. In true fashion, he didn't have straight answers for me. In that moment I was still angry that after twenty-some odd years, he hadn't come up with a reason for his actions.

Now, here I am at the tender age of twenty-six realizing some things about myself and my father. First,  after years of blaming my self for his absence, I realized I didn't do ANYTHING that impacted my father's decision to be absent and I couldn't have done anything to make him be there for me. I'm realizing that maybe the best he could give me was his absence. That maybe having him around would have caused more damage than his absence.  Also, as the child in this dynamic, I shouldn't and won't be the one to mend it. Lastly, I am still making peace with this part of my life's journey and I am doing my best to heal from this so it doesn't spill over into other relationships, especially those of a romantic nature.

Thanks for reading about my Daddy Lessons. As always if  you have your own story to share in relation to Daddy Lessons or any other comments, feel free share in below.