MamaSpeak: Honor Thy Absent Father

Another Father’s Day has come and gone, and judging by some of the blogs and message boards I read, this was one of the most controversial ones I think I’ve ever experienced. From mothers not wanting to be wished a Happy Father’s Day (even if it’s just to say have a happy day), to religious teachers spreading the Good News that the Word of God forbids us from calling any man father, to adult children lamenting a father’s absence during their childhood. There’s one thing for sure, the day set aside to honor dads doesn’t come with nearly as much pomp and ceremony as the one when we honor moms.

So, why is it so hard for many of us to wish the man whose DNA is woven into the fibers of our being a Happy Father’s Day? Why can’t we just do it? I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. My best guess is that some daddies are just easier to love than others. For some, that may have something to do with the fact that he stayed. While, with others, it may have a lot to do with the fact that he left. Either way, there’s no denying the effect his absence–or presence–plays in our lives well into adulthood.

My father was one of the ones who left. And to this day, I love him truly, madly, deeply. But, admittedly, there was a time when that love came from a sense of duty I felt for his being responsible for my existence. As I’ve evolved in love and as a person, I now know that I love him just because. I love him because he’s not perfect—and neither am I. I love him because he’s made mistakes—and so have I. Nevertheless, having his blood running through my veins never generated an automatic emotional bond or connection to him. That probably explains why when it comes to determining who I’ll send a Father’s Day greeting to, I find myself bypassing him, and going straight for the men who have had the most influence on me: brothers, cousins, uncles, ministers, co-workers. It’s never a conscious effort to omit him. It’s just that when I think of fathers, these are the men that come to mind. They’ve mentored my children, stepped in to be a surrogate dad in the absence of my own, and modeled the behavior and attributes that I want my husband to possess.

I called and sent text messages to all of them, while my father received nothing. And I’m okay with that, because I’m over the emotional tug-o-war of should I/shouldn’t I: Should I let him walk me down the aisle? Shouldn’t I have called him on his birthday, even if I didn’t remember? Whether my decision is yes or no, neither is an indicator of whether I love him or not.

I harbor no anger or bitterness toward him for anything that he did or did not do. Love does not demand its own way, and it does not keep a record of any wrongs. I hold him in high respect, which doesn’t include the Father’s Day fanfare of greeting cards and ties. I love him the way that I choose. And that’s more for me more than for him. And it’s because of this peace that I’m able to give and receive Eros love with a mate in spite of not having grown up with my daddy.

I know how difficult it can be to honor an absent father. We must all love and honor them in our own way. And our decision can’t be based on a scorecard that we’ve been tallying all the hurts and wrongs on. Honor him by letting go of the fact that he wasn’t there. If not for him, then do it for you.

Lisa Maria Carroll is a woman of courage, destiny and purpose who is sharing her insights through her blog, www.singlemomandmore.com. This single mom of four adult children is hellbent on combating the single mom stereotypes portrayed by popular media. Moreover, she wants single moms to redefine how they see themselves.

Read more articles by Lisa Maria Carroll