At 31, I've been through A LOT. More than I care to discuss with the public of the internet but if you know me well then you know my background and the things that have come and gone along with it over the years.
To me, in order to define yourself as a dad, you need to be present in your child's life. You need to be present in their memories of birthdays, Christmas, and every other random day of the year that passes by without a thought. Anyone can be a father to a child but it takes somebody that has real courage to stand up and be a dad.
I've had the privilege of having both types of men in my life (and yes, I'm calling it that because it's taught me A LOT about parenting and I wouldn't be who I am without both types of men in my life). As a child, you instinctively love your parents. A child only shies away from their parents if fear is instilled or not enough attention is given or some kind of situation like that is present.
When I was in L.A. this past week my mom called and informed me that my father had passed away (biological). I knew he had been very sick (cancer, emphysema, etc) and I even went to see him in the hospital a couple days after I had shoulder surgery. I decided that I'd go and visit because if he needed closure before he passed away, then I wanted to give it to him so that he could hopefully go in peace. Besides not looking anything like the guy I remember, he was still stubborn and hard headed which completely runs in our family.
In my case, my biological father was an alcoholic and was physically abusive to me and my mom at various moments during my childhood. One of my earliest memories of him is with me being crouched in the narrow hallway just outside of my bedroom in the wee hours of the morning and seeing him toss my mom across the living room during one of their arguments. I was maybe 3? My parents divorced when I was 7 and a year or so later my mom remarried. Over the years I went to visit my dad upon occasion - the last time I had seen him before he got sick was when I was 4 months pregnant with my daughter. My daughter's dad and I went down to visit him to let him know he was going to be a grandfather. I tried keeping in touch by sending cards over the years or going to my grandparents when I knew he would be there but I think there's only so much one person can do when the other party doesn't make an effort. My mom re-married a year or so after the divorce and we moved in with my step-dad which was a totally different world. I've shut a lot of things out about my early childhood but over the past few days, I've come to realize that my father will always be my father. I may not have a lot of "daddy" memories of him but I've pulled a few out of my childhood vault that have made me smile and laugh because when my father was around and was in a good mood, things were as they should be in any family. Happy. He had a great smile, a great laugh, and the bottom line is that I know he loved me, he just didn't know how to show it and couldn't find the courage to sober up enough to help keep our family together. I saw this love when I went to his house the other evening and he had 2 photos of me on his wall: one from my high school graduation that I had sent him, and one from when I was a baby.
So, before I continue, here are the happy memories that I pulled out from a very dusty shelf when going through my father's things in the trailer the other evening:
1) Learning to ride a bike with him. I think this should probably be something that every single child has the honor to keep in their memory bank with one or both of their parents. And every single parent should die knowing that they helped their child to learn to ride a bike.
2) Sitting in my dad's tow-truck with him and feeling like I was on top of the world. I can look at pictures of the truck now and know it wasn't that big but as a kid, it was HUGE and I loved it.
3) Washing the tires of my dad's old cars he was building and had sitting around. It was my job and I took it seriously. I credit the fact that I love cars and everything to do with them to my mom & dad who both raced and loved cars.
I'm sure there are other memories but those pop to the surface first when thinking about things.
I also got to bring some things home thanks to my Uncle & his wife that let me come down and go through everything. The things that I brought home? MY toy cars. It's an honor for me to be able to give them to my daughter to play with. She loves cars and trucks as much as I did when I was a kid and today we built a whole cars land on the living room floor that had a garage, a rescue center, a military base, and a construction site. I also brought back my dad's old belt buckles. He LOVED belt buckles and I can't remember seeing him without one on. There must be 15 different belt buckles but I'll keep them forever and probably pull them out and go through them upon occasion. Marbles. I loved marbles as a kid and forever had them rolling around the living room floor. So now they'll belong to my munchkin too and I can get upset when I step on them or they ruin my vacuum cleaner. And, last but very not least, family photos. Photos of my parents before I was born, photos of my dads cars, photos of me, and photos of us together on occasion.
I have to laugh because now I know where I get my general need to keep anything that might be of value in some form or another. My father kept EVERYTHING. Tomorrow is his funeral and despite not really being able to figure out a lot of emotions I've had over the past week or so, I know that he deserves my presence there and I'm happy that he can finally be at rest.
In 2001, my step-dad committed suicide (I was a junior in high school). Despite being totally blindsided with the news when I got it, I never knew he was unhappy. He was always present, always aware of what I was doing (sometimes to the point of annoyance but I think that's the job of any dad in any teenagers life), and always ready to hear me out if I wanted to talk. After my mom got remarried, we moved to a 344 acre farm a town over from where we lived with my biological father. It was a kids heaven on earth. A mile long driveway, space to run and play, a creek to play in, trails to walk, etc. etc. As a teenager, I hated it. It was 30 minutes from any of my friends and I had to wake up stupidly early to commute to school. I couldn't sneak out because the driveway was a mile long and my friends lived so far they certainly weren't coming to get me in the middle of the night. Alas, I had a boring few years as a teenager because I lived on a farm (side note: I'm completely moving to the country when my daughter is a teenager to keep her out of trouble!). In retrospect, I loved growing up here, I loved having a present step-dad that cared too much, and I miss every single bit of it and would give anything to go back to those moments. My step-dad is the one that I call my "dad" when I talk to friends and family. My memories range from riding on the tractor with him and feeding cows to sitting with him on the back porch and watching thunderstorms to having typical teenager arguments about friends that he thought were bad choices. The moments that he was able to give me growing up are what I list as my "daddy" memories.
As a dear friend pointed out to me the other day, I'm lucky to have both of these men in my life. I'm lucky that I even have the few good memories with my biological father because even those could have been bad and there are people that don't even get those few memories. I'll treasure those forever because I know that without him and without the tough moments, I really wouldn't be who I am today. He's my foundation that I've grown up on. I'll always remember him with his darkened olive skin, jet black hair, huge belt buckles, and cover alls as he worked on his cars outside.
I'm thankful that my step-dad taught me things on the complete other end of the spectrum of life. How to manage money (I'm not very good at it, just take a look at the dozens of shoes in my closet), how to mow grass in straight lines so they evened up with the house (I think he was a bit OCD), and how to appreciate the simplicity of a thunderstorm.
Both of these fathers/dads had their faults but faults in a person are what make them who they are. Faults are what make a person special and what give others the memories (good and bad) that they can cherish forever. If a person was perfect all the time they'd be utterly boring and we wouldn't have anything to remember about them because they would never do or say anything that would engage us.
Here's to you guys, both my father and my dad. I miss you both and will cherish the memories that I've pulled from the dusty shelves.
And, here's to being parents anyway that we can figure out how. Because somewhere along the line, we're going to screw up but as long as we love our kids and spend the random days of the year with them washing tires on cars and watching thunderstorms from the porch, then they'll be okay. Because those are the days they'll remember most. Cheers.
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