Father’s Day is coming soon. I don’t remember ever seeing a photo of my dad holding me. I don’t remember him offering his hand to help me walk. I don’t recall any kissed booboos or falling asleep in his lap. I do remember him bouncing my brother and me on his knees to the tune of Bonanza when it aired on Sunday nights. I remember watching fireworks from the car three blocks away from the park. I remember going fishing with him…once. I wouldn’t touch the worm. He was done.
My relationship with my dad was complicated. Like every little girl, I sought his approval. It never came. I sought his love. He didn’t know how to give it. He never saw me sing on stage. He never watched me perform on the balance beam. As my brother and I aged, Dad became more and more lost in a bottle of Four Roses.
By the time I was an antagonistic teenager, our relationship had devolved into angry shouting matches and stony silence. He became “the man who lived upstairs”. I married and left home with the first boy who would have me and I didn’t look back. By the time I was twenty-one, to my mother’s great relief, they were divorced.
Dad went back to his roots and moved into a trailer on his sister’s farm. As a widow, she was extremely careful of her reputation and when dad had to be driven home from the bar one night, she stormed into his trailer the next morning and struck him on the bottom of the feet with an iron skillet. She informed him there would never be another incident like that or he would find himself out on his ear. He ended up going on the wagon and found Jesus and married a childhood friend.
I never really knew that man…the one all my cousins knew. The one all the town knew. The one who went to church every Sunday and became the model citizen…to everyone outside. But inside? Our relationship stayed exactly the same. His modus operandi was “blame and shame”. I tried. Lord knows I tried to have a relationship with him. But, in order to do that, I needed to talk about what had happened and he wasn’t interested.
If he would have just once said “I’m sorry, Sis.” Oh, I learned to forgive him because he did what he knew, but that apology would have gone a long way toward mending my broken heart. Instead, I married father replacements. First, the stern disciplinarian. Then the busy doctor who couldn’t express his true feelings. Then Mr. Virgo came along and healed that spot in my heart that needed to know I was loved and cherished and….wanted.
Still, I remember my therapist telling me one time, “You know, Ginny…you’re never going to find your father’s love.” I was bereft. It was as if the final page was read and the book snapped shut. The End!
What do I do now?
I went on. I put a bandaid over the spot where I wanted dad-memories in my heart and went on. After all, I was an adult. I was functioning as best I could with what I had to work with. It was ok, I said to myself. I don’t need a father. I don’t need anybody. Mr. Virgo was the only man I really let in and even he didn’t get to see every room.
Then…my dad died.
Then…Mr. Virgo died.
I was never, ever going to feel that unconditional love again.
I was wrong. I found love again…deep, true, lasting love with Mr. FixIt. And, I was a Christian. I had God. He was my Heavenly Father…but, I still wanted a DAD!
This has been on my heart a lot in the last few weeks. And, just like clockwork, here came the Holy Spirit to minister to that sore place within me. Recently, every sermon has been some variation of this theme.
“Your dad wasn’t there for you. It’s ok. You don’t need him. He was here to do what only he could do and it hurt. But here….I’ve got some really great news for you.
“God IS your dad! He loves you…absolutely…unconditionally. He CRAVES when you come sit with him and lay your head on his shoulder. He WANTS you to take his hand and walk with him. He LOVES it when you talk to him and tell him how your day went and share worries of your mind. He DESIRES you to trust him like the dad that he is. He NEEDS you to know he isn’t ever going to leave you….not ever!”
Wow! How awesome is that? Knowing this…I mean really deep down in my bones KNOWING this…has healed some place deep inside my heart. I don’t have to look for my dad anywhere but up. When I want to hear him talking to me, I read the words he left for me to follow. When I don’t please him, he lets me know. The most important thing he wants me to know is I am the joy of his heart. The object of his greatest longing.
Finally….finally I found my father….in my Father.
❤️
“The same way a loving father feels toward his children— that’s but a sample of your tender feelings toward us, your beloved children, who live in awe of you.” Psalms 103:13 TPT
Love you Ginny?
Love you right back, Gail! ❤️
Beautiful. I found this poem online years ago (and I’m not into poetry) but it resonated with me. A lot of men were unable to express themselves well and it wasn’t until I found out my own fathers difficulty with his fathers death and (according to my mom) his own mothers half rejection of him (never treating him as well as his sisters) that I understood he had his own deep hurt and was incapable from giving from an empty well. Sally (Here is the poem) Late Poem to My Father by Sharon Olds Suddenly I thought of you as a child in that house, the unlit rooms and the hot fireplace with the man in front of it, silent. You moved through the heavy air in your physical beauty, a boy of seven, helpless, smart, there were things the man did near you, and he was your father, the mold by which you were made. Down in the cellar, the barrels of sweet apples, picked at their peak from the tree, rotted and rotted, and past the cellar door the creek ran and ran, and something was not given to you, or something was taken from you that you were born with, so that even at 30 and 40 you set the oily medicine to your lips every night, the poison to help you drop down unconscious. I always though the point was what you did to us as a grown man, but then I remembered that child being formed in front of the fire, the tiny bones inside his soul twisted in greenstick fractures, the small tendons that hold the heart in place snapped. And what they did to you you did not do to me. When I love you now, I like to think that I am giving my love directly to that boy in the fiery room, as if it could reach him in time. Sharon Olds, The Gold Cell. Alfrd A. Knopf, 1987.
That is so beautiful. I have long since forgiven my father and understand you cannot perform in a way you’ve never learned or explored. I have compassions for him in that he had plans. He wanted to be a farmer. An artist. He didn’t grow up thinking he would be an alcoholic and hurt his family. It surely wast his goal. We were the collateral damage that came from trying to put out the fire. Thank you for sharing the pole. It resonates with me, too. ❤️
Dad issues…. Dad memories…. some good…. more bad…. the bad ones are what creep into my thoughts everyday and keep me awake at nights…. those bad things…. Dad’s aren’t supposed to do…. not supposed to be. I don’t celebrate Fathers Day, I didn’t have a father to celebrate and by my own bad choice in choosing a father for my own kids, my children didn’t have a father that deserved to be celebrated. Bad choices that affect people’s whole lives, I wish I believed in reincarnation so I could have a do-over. Oh what a difference I would make…
Oh…a do-over knowing what we know now. As much as I wish things had been different, and as many mistakes as I made in this life, I still wouldn’t change a thing because everything I went through made me the person I al. And, by golly…I’m ok just the way I am! ❤️
I and my three siblings, all older, we’re left without a father in our lives after my parents divorced. I was young enough to never have remembered even seeing his face. Beckett the state, never provided a penny for our support and my mother was bitter. Who could blame her. For most of my life I thought I didn’t miss what I didn’t have and was a happy, precocious, almost fearless kid. When I married, a guy who is a wonderful father (Dad) to our girls, I thought, I really am ok emotionally speaking, I don’t harbor a lot of hate for the missing dad, that wasn’t true, it was deep within me. My “bad dad” issues came when watching my daughters both divorce their kid’s fathers. One became completely absent from one granddaughter, his choice and loss. The other, missing the to incareration, his bad choices. The pain I’ve seen in those precious girls at times has been unbearable. Our heavenly Father can and will fill our hearts and provide all our needs. But, even knowing that it’s still difficult to wrap your mind around the feelings a young woman who says to themselves, “why does my father not want a relationship with me?” Especially when he remarried and has three more children. Or the other grand who says, ‘my dad just made bad choices’, he sees her now (from time to time) now that he has his life going on the right direction. Hopefully.
How important are dads! Just look at the state of this sad world. How many missing dads are responsible for a messed up generation (or two). Sorry I rambled. I don’t talk about it often, nothing changes the past.
❤️
Debbie, I agree, nothing changes the past. But you are right, look at this generation . . . . a generation without Dads. We. mothers, grandparents, family and friends must help to make up for the missing Dad. But most of all, we must teach them about God the Father, loving, caring, always there, holding our hand, arms wrapped around us. That is the most wonderful Father there is.
❤️❤️
so beautiful,,, I have come a long way since the death of my mom 6 years ago to the marriage of my dad 4 years ago.. I felt I lost them both.. my dad has disapeared from my life since he remarried.. Im a grown woman but the feeling of abandonment has taken me almost 3 years to heal. He was my dad, my daddy, my spiritual advisor, my prayer warrior. I thought he was my rock. but I have learned to lean on the “rock and the foundation of Christ Jesus” He is a father like no other, I love him deeply but from time to time I still miss my earthly dad,, but I know he can not be who I want him to be.. I continue to love him, but I had to grow up and move on and allow the Lord to love me deeper than any love.
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You and I must be going through a similar quest. I had almost no relationship with my father. I always wanted a “Daddy” to love me and think I was special. My friends had those “Daddies “ not me. I looked for that love in many places and made many mistakes. I have had a resentment about my non relationship with my father for years. These past few months God has been leading me to let go of this resentment and remember He is my Abba. I have a “Daddy” who loves me so much and cares about every detail of my life. How wonderful to have this release and relationship with God!
Isn’t that the truth??? ❤️
I am always struck how parallel our lives have been. My father too was an alcoholic and absent from my life and his marriage though he was there the whole time I was growing up. You made me realize that I do not have a picture of my Dad holding me either. My Dad has been gone many years now. When he died I heard about how wonderfully kind he was and that he had been sober a number of years. Sadly that was a person I did not know. But I am glad he finally found the means to beat his demon. Happy Father’s Day to all the great Dads out there.
I totally relate about the Dad that didn’t love a cherish girl his little Girl….
I love what you said about God, Amen Sister…
I joined SOTF a year and half ago and just Today have gone on the site…I came a cross your post about your first Christmas with out you Husband….While reading you story and at work, I cried my eye out. Everybody at work just looked at me wondering What was wrong with me….your story touched me. Thank you for Sharing. Deborah
Thank you for your kind words, Deborah. They mean more than you know. ❤️