Another Father's Day has come and gone, and my ambivalence to the holiday has continued. Oh, I don't mean in regard to my own kids, or to my wife. Father's Day is always an occasion where I feel honored and singled out-my family really let me know how appreciated I am.
I mean my own father.
Yeah, him.
When my parents divorced, I was six. I had been my father's pint-sized hunting companion and fishing buddy. We had spent a lot of time together outdoors and in the woods, and I was on my way to becoming as much of a shooter, a hunter, and an outdoorsman as he was.
Something happened along the way-when they divorced, he dropped totally out of my life-and that of my brothers. Adam was about two, and Shawn was a baby, only about nine months or so. I didn't see him between the ages of six and eighteen, even though he lived less than five miles away, in the same town. I don't really know how that is even possible, to stay away from your kids for that long, and how to keep from running into us when we lived so close together.
The intervening years brought us back in touch-but barely. He seems to be a nice enough guy, but hard to get to know. Keeps to himself. Plays things close to his chest. Tells stories and tall tales and jokes, but never lets any real information out about who he is. A nice enough guy, but a total mystery. I've been to his house about three times in the past ten years, and always find myself squirming uncomfortably, aching to get the hell out of there, after about, oh, two minutes.
A lot of family relationships are built on shared memories, stories, and experience. What if you have none? What is left?
I call him, every now and then. I can't remember him ever calling me. Not even returning a call to me if I left a message on his machine. I used to send a card every now and then, holidays or birthday or Father's Day even, but it never seemed to make a difference, he never seemed to show any kind of interest or even to notice, and after awhile it just became a bother. All the contacts with him have been initiated by me, and after a while of a one-sided relationship, you get weary of carrying the weight and the worry and the bother. All. By. Yourself.
I've been thinking lately about what will happen as he gets older, if he has made provision for what is euphemistically called the declining years. He has no children other than me and my brothers, and they have no contact at all with him. As a matter of fact, both of them unloaded the Barber name, which is a pretty good indication of how far they feel from him. My middle brother, Adam, is a Burdette after my stepfather's family, and Shawn, when he married, changed his last name back to my mother's maiden name of Harrington.
My current hope-actually more of a desperate prayer- is that either my father's current wife or his sister outlive him and can fill all those obligations. Power of attorney. Guardian. Choice of nursing home. Next of kin. Executor of will. Blah blah blah.
That's a hell of a relationship, hoping against hope that I won't be dragged into his world when he has shown so conclusively that he has never had an interest in bringing me into any part of it.
What do you do when you grow up without a father present?
You get your fathering where you can.
I was blessed with more than a few really inspiring male role models. My stepfather's dad, Joe Burdette, who taught me that you can live in love with God and all the world and that there is nothing manlier than service to your family. Gene Hunter, who showed me that living in community with others and calm serenity can be achieved by doing what you say you're going to do at all times. Bill Yon, who drew me deeper into the St. Francis church family and taught me that faith comes in all sorts of disguises. Uncles, teachers, managers, I've taken bits and pieces of advice where I have found it, and rolled it into my own outlook on life.
The old adage is that where a door shuts, a window is opened, and I hope I have been aware enough to realize the occasions when God has sent someone across my path to teach me, to instruct me, to lead me to a new level.
I have no idea where my mostly absent relationship with my father will turn in the future, but I try to keep myself open to changes. Who knows what will come my way later on? I strive to not close off any avenues, to be open and receptive to whatever transpires.
After all, I've had EXCELLENT fathers to teach me to lead with my head but listen to God's voice in my heart.
Happy Father's Day to all of you!
That was really good, Jeff. Thanks for sharing.
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