Father’s day
Clifton M Hammers
How can they not see what they have done; the parents who have abandoned their children? How is it that they can make this move as easily as sliding a marble chess piece across a board and not see that in doing this simple slide they have, in essence, overturned the table.
What surprises me right now is how I am instantly transported to a forgotten little girl, from a woman who clearly wasn’t as healed as she thought; I feel small and embarrassed by this- I feel shame, but I do not understand why- I feel guilt and great sadness, but no anger…
I left my anger on the sideboard all those years ago when, in order to preserve my heart, I had to forgive you and move on. It has been a long while since that day when I forgave you for not being the father I needed you to be. I forgave you for your addiction to gambling, which drove you to make decisions which reflected poorly upon us all. I forgave you for your bigotries and hate, which I know now helped to shape your thinking and behaviors.
I forgave you for the times I heard you in the background, while our Stepmom was urging you to talk to us on the phone, but you were telling her to say you had already gone…This was years before you actually did leave. I forgave you for not caring enough to check in on your girls who only had summers with you, followed by what would become thirty two years without you. I forgave you for your treatment of my Stepmom, who was the best thing you ever gave us- she loved us enough where you should have been, and continues to do so.
I forgave you for being absent in most places of importance, like boyfriends, holidays and hard times I struggled through. Years after, I forgave you for your alcoholic daughter, my sister, almost dying and you were none the wiser of your role. I forgave you for missing the chance to see me get married, a place traditionally reserved for a father.
By this time in my life, it had been almost twenty years of no contact. Years of me believing you were dead- it was actually easier this way- but knowing you probably weren’t because every month of every year I checked the Tennessee Vital Records to search for your death certificate.
My life went on, and I have lived it well. And I am sharing that now as a framework for what I am about to explain…
I have spent my life convincing myself that I was worthy of my father’s love- it was HE who decided to stay away. I have built up from the ashes of the inferno which burned in a young girl’s heart when she was left to wonder what she had done- it took me many years to realize I had done nothing wrong.
I spend a lot of time pondering and wondering, questioning life and circumstances…One of the things I believe to be true is that forgiveness is one thing we cannot live without. We all have the ability to do it, and do it we must, if we are to be free of our bindings to our pain and our past. People deserve forgiveness because we are fallible in our pursuit to be good humans. Sometimes we err and it hurts no one, other times our wrongs cause an avalanche of hurt for so many…
That was you, the terrible event that wounded not JUST me, but also ME, and through my discomfort, I suffered a thought over and over…it wasn’t only your leaving that impaired me, it was your disinterest in being a father to your children when we were right in front of you, which caused the most soreness.
The grief of losing your love as a child incapacitates me as an adult when I think of it. If I allow myself to, I can put myself in my room, writing the poems that talked about everyone telling me how you sat by my incubator in the hospital when my sister, who was healthier and stronger went home with our mother, but I wouldn’t follow for three weeks. I have to say I don’t believe the stories, but I love the idea of a new Daddy not wanting to leave the side of his prematurely newborn daughter, until she too, could travel home. I wrote about how your racism clouded your judgment (that is how I choose to see it) when you exposed your young daughter to the hateful acts of men who were acting like rage filled animals whilst tearing down a proud man, who was never like them, but died there anyway, because of your own fears.
Sometimes I struggle with forgiveness because there is a lot of ugliness in this world and some things seem beyond absolution, but my heart tells me forgive anyway, and so I do. I have lived a life filled with love. I have created this life despite your absence. It is this fact that allowed me to truly forgive you.
I didn’t spend a lot of time wondering how different my life would have been with a father who was present, but I was reminded frequently when my friends’ dads were always around them. I discovered I was grateful more than anything, for them, that they had not wrestled the beast I had tangled with- and right here is where it happened…
I understood I was not your hurt, nor my pain.
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I could move beyond it and heal from it. I examined my life and decided I didn’t need for you to be a hero, or even present anymore…
I found it easier as time moved on and thought I had done alright, and then the call came…You had resurfaced after three decades…
Time I thought you could be anywhere
Time I thought anything could’ve happened to you
Time your family worried about your well-being
Oh I had heard things from time to time- you were in hiding from people you owed money to, or you worked somewhere and someone thought they saw you, or that you had moved to another state…a ghost really- but now materialized again, this time confirmed by your phone message to me.
My first reaction was that the call was uninvited and I became annoyed that you called yourself Daddy, but hadn’t earned that title. Then I felt anger — which is something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel where you were concerned because there is power in that, which you didn’t deserve. Then, I felt ashamed for even thinking such things…Here was my father calling me after thirty-two. years of silence and I should be happy that he is alive and trying to make contact, but that injured little sacred me halted me in my tracks and surprised me because I hadn’t seen that child in a lifetime, but there she was, raw and open again, flooded with emotions and questions — and then I remembered…
You are on in your years now, and frail. Only you know the real reasons you stayed away all this time — I don’t really want to know, if I am being honest- and I breathed, and breathed again, easier this time. While you were away, I learned a few things… I learned that when I am faced with a task I feel ill prepared for, the very first thing I do is push through the fear and breathe. It helps me to put things into perspective. I also learned that I am now a strong woman who has the ability to stand up and be heard. I also cultivated kindness in my life, and even when it feels counter-intuitive, I share that kindness without prejudice.
So now, as I am grappling with what to do, I am torn between being kind, even if that means being hurt, and being hurtful, which seems kinder to me in the moment, but I know that is not who I am.
I keep thinking that this is you asking for forgiveness- or possibly saying goodbye to your family, or maybe just opportunity presented itself when my cousin, whose heart was in the right place, interjected herself into our situation and offered you my phone number, telling you she is sure your girls have missed you and have pined over you all these years — bless her heart- she meant well…
So as I write this, which I thought would help me to decide my next action, all I want to do is lay my head down and sleep and forget how it is that one person has such a hold over me that I am reduced to a child seeking approval from a man who never showed me the slightest inkling of that.
I am astonished that my reaction is this visceral because I was so certain I had healed and moved on — again, clearly not- I am nervous because I know peace now, in your absence. There is no more longing to have you in my life, but how is that being kind to myself, to deny you a conversation?
I loved you when I was little. I used to count the months until summertime when we would be sent to you. I remember fighting sleep to stay up and talk with you on the night we arrived, each year. I wanted to be with you when you went to work because I thought if I could just spend some time with you, you’d see how good I was, how smart and how kind.
As a grown woman I know that I became those things in an effort to counteract your detestable behavior; I became good because you were not- I became smart to combat ignorance- I became kind to defeat immoral behavior. So I suppose you are a slight bit responsible for the person I have grown to be…You pushed me away from you and towards assuaging my misery.
It feels unfair, though, that good, good people have lost their own fathers who loved them throughout their lives- who were always there, but now are not- but you are here, consistently absent and persisting.
You know, I never wanted children, but I often think about the fact that I missed the opportunity to become a better parent than I had; to love a child unconditionally. I would have given my everything to ensure they knew they were loved.
Instead, though, I learned to love myself unequivocally, which is on-going. Because of that, I am choosing to love you with all your faults. I am offering you this, my vulnerability, because being a daughter is a lifelong commitment, and I am nothing if not a woman of my word.
