Fatherhood Freestyle: My Story….Not My Father’s

I love women. I can find something attractive on almost anyone of them. It could be their eyes, their smile or the way they carry themselves with confidence. I don’t have a particular type or shape or color preference. Long hair doesn’t turn me on more than short, curvy bodies more than straight, tall over short. Intelligence and a sense of humor goes a long way though..

I was raised by women, have raised women and some of my closest friends are women. I’ve worked as the only male in treatment center for females and survived and thrived. Women have shaped my life, contributed to the man I’ve become and the values I have.

Whenever I would envision the way I would begin the story of my life it always began this way, with most of these words. For one thing, the words are true; women have played a huge role in my life. And I am clear that another reason why is my father.

My father and I have never lived in the same house, have never played catch, shared a joke or a laugh. We have never watched a sporting event, taken a walk or watched a cartoon together. And while many adults could make the same claims for many reasons: “my father died when I was 2” or “he ran away when I was born” or “my mama wasn’t sure who my daddy was”.. I do know who he is. I know his name and occupation and where he lives. His physical absence from my life played as big a role in my shaping as the women who were present. And notice I said his physical absence; emotionally he has been and remains one of my major influences.

As the women in my childhood taught me and scolded me and fed me, my father’s effect was subtle, almost unnoticeable until my teenage years. This increased as I grew into manhood, became a tidal wave as I became a parent to my daughter, and exploded in a crescendo as I became a father to a son. I can remember the joy and wonder I felt as I looked into my daughter’s eyes for the first time, the pride and relief of knowing she was safe, healthy and whole. The comfort I felt in feeding her, changing her and making her laugh. To this day she still takes my heart to the top of the clouds just to be in her presence. The birth of my son added a new wrinkle and sense of wonder; while my daughter was clearly related to me, my blood, my offspring- my son was a mini version of me. We shared more than similar physical features, he wanted to play sports, to wrestle, to fight, to play catch. We used our fingers to hold objects in the same way, crossed our legs and hummed while eating something special. And as I became more aware of these similarities and shared traits, that’s when my father’s presence or lack of had its biggest impact; I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t understand how he could leave, how could he know I existed and not been in my life. How could he not play catch, take a walk or share advice with me? Whereas not having my father in my life growing up was accepted as a fact by me, an unalterable truth, becoming a parent and seeing my son and knowing how I felt about both my children, that fact became absurd, insane, truly, beyond any words I can use.

And I have tried desperately to understand. I have thought and thunk, asked friends and strangers, spoken to clients and read books. I even went to my father and asked him directly. “Well, your mother didn’t want me around” was the first deflection, followed by “and to be honest with you, I’m not even sure if I am your father”. And that was the beginning of my enlightenment and release. At that moment, the utterance of that blatant and obvious lie, I realized that whatever I was looking for, I would not find it in him. There would be no guidance, no embrace, no shared experiences; as alike as we were in appearance, our build, our hands and that slightly up tilted Bob Hope nose, we were completely different in our hearts, our view of ourselves. Whatever motivated him to speak those words, fear, guilt, shame or ignorance, I’ll never truly know (and I can only wonder if he knows). As the father to my kids some of my biggest fears have been ‘Will I be good enough? Can I give them a different life from the one I had?’ Only time and their testament will declare the truth of that. But I know that my children and I share things he and I will never have. The memories of stitches and casts, cakes and wrapping paper and the swell of pride as they walked across various stages marking the advance of their own lives and accomplishments. When I look at them I feel a peace in knowing these are my children, and I am their father.

TK is the clinical director of an addictions treatment program in the Atlanta area. Originally from New Orleans, he is the divorced father of two adult children. He regularly shares his co-parenting and fatherhood adventures through Fatherhood Freestyle.

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