The important thing is not to think much, but to love much and to do that which best stirs you to love. St. Teresa of Avila
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Happy Dad’s Day
Happy Father’s Day (Photo credit: Viewminder)
Today, is that day when those in the United States pause to celebrate their fathers. Of course, dads should be celebrated every day. In any case, I wish all the Dads out there a very Happy Dad’s Day. You may note that I refer to “Dad'” instead of “Father.” As you read this post, you will understand my reasons for doing so. In the end, you may disagree with my reasons, but hey, if we all thought the same way, life would be predictable and boring.
I do not have a father to celebrate. My birth father died last year, but in reality, he was a complete stranger to me, and certainly not a Dad. For most of my life, I never had one. My father chose to abandon me, my two sisters and Mother on my birthday when I was five years old. So for 11 years, I never saw or communicated with him. He didn’t even send my mother a dime to help raise us. Although those facts are my reality, this post is not about him.It is about all the men who don’t serve as mere sperm donors. Fortunately, I was blessed with a couple of those men who showed me what it meant to be a Dad. So, it is with this post that I recognize all the Dads in the world.
Although some will disagree, at a deeper level, there is a distinction between the monikers “Dad,” and “Father.” A man need not be the child’s father, to be a Dad. A dad is there for his family. He is the one cheering you on at your sports games. He is in the audience at any function in which you appear–even those boring school plays, band concerts and dance recitals. He supports your mother in meting out loving discipline, when it is necessary. He shares the responsibility of driving you here and there and after you can drive, stays up until you are home safely.
He is there when you are ill, if for nothing else than, to provide love and comfort. Until he can no longer actively do so, he assuages your fears and protects you from all of life’s boogeymen. In the case of girls, he tries, in vain I might add, to counsel you about the nature of boys. If you are a boy, he teaches you to love, respect and support women. He provides you food to eat, clothes on your back and a roof over your head. He participates in all the memorable events in your life. The fact is, that ‘he is always there.’
Even if your dad has passed on, you have memories of him that act as a balm on days like this one. They are memories etched in your heart by the love that you shared. Studies show that, on average, girls with close relationships with their dads grow up with higher self-esteem and enjoy healthier relationships with men. Whether he is still here or has passed on, you share a bond like no other.
Let me hasten to add that divorce seems an inevitable part of life for many. Yet, a man remains a Dad by staying in the lives of his children. Although a father and mother divorce, the same is not true for the children. In fact, at times such as this, a child needs both their parents, more than ever. A Dad continues forging a relationship with his children, that is as strong as possible, given the circumstance. A Dad never uses a divorce as an opportunity to run away from his children or his responsibility to them.
There is not much to say about the ‘father.’ It is a fact that without a ‘father,’ you would simply not exist. He is essential in giving you life. In all too many cases, that is his sole contribution. The sad fact is that he is not there to share in the pangs and glories of raising his child.
So, on this day, I commend all the “Dads” in the world who are active in the lives of their children, loving and guiding them on their journey toward adulthood. Sometimes, raising a child is a thankless task, but the joys of doing so, far outweigh the pains. Thank you for being there through it all. You are a child’s first notion of ‘Dad,’ and as they learn by example, you are preparing them for the future. You are your child’s first hero.
I realize that not all situations are so clearcut, so forgive me if I failed to address all the variants of these complex relationships. As I say this, I’d also like to thank all you mothers who, like mine, tried to serve both roles, as single parents. We appreciate your presence, determination, strength, love and hard work. You, too, are our heroes.
A Monday Thought
“she brought out the storm in people, because she knew wherever there were dark skies and wild winds, lied a truth, a truth that described how much love one can leave behind the moment they accept all the pain they have lived.
and that is all she ever wanted, for everyone around her to embrace their storms and make them fall in love with their own violent winds.” ~ r.m. drake
This week, may you find the strength to discover YOUR truth, that leads you to “fall in love with your own violent winds.” In doing so, may you feel a sense of peace and wholeness that has always been yours for the taking.
Some Things Never Die
Heart-shaped cloud (Photo credit: aivas14)
Recently, I met someone new — a possible friend. As we engaged in small talk, she asked one of the questions that I fear most. The question itself is innocuous: How many brothers and sisters do you have? You see, I told you that the question is most ordinary, however, it gives me pause each time that someone asks me. For most of my life, the answer to the question, if it arose, was a simple one. I’d answer, “I have two sisters and one brother.” However, the question took on greater import years ago when my baby brother died. In my case, that event turned a seemingly straightforward question into a quandary. I mean, technically, I now only have two siblings, but in my heart, I still have three. Which answer was true? Upon the death of my brother, did I lose a sibling or could I truthfully say that I had three? Perhaps the answer is immediately clear for others confronted with the same circumstance, but not for me. I have to finally answer that question, more for myself than others.
I hadn’t given it much thought until after his death, when the first person asked me the question. I was so surprised and flummoxed that I immediately excused myself and scurried away. I literally could not answer the woman’s question and it saddened me. I mean, even though my brother’s death was tragic enough, after so many years, one would think that I’d arrived at an answer. Yet, that was not the case.
I was the eldest of four siblings and my brother was the baby. With two sisters already, I longed to have a brother. When my mother brought him home from the hospital, I would sneak into her room, just to look at him sleeping — my baby brother. I vowed to protect him and keep him safe. We were nine years apart in age, but for reasons that still defy me, we had more of a bond and connection than I had with my sisters. I became pregnant at a young age, right after graduating high school, and left home to begin my own family. Since my family didn’t have a car, my brother would take 2-3 buses to come visit me in our extremely tiny and cramped apartment. As my pregnancy and subsequent marriage (before I was even 18) wasn’t popular in my family, I was on my own. Among my immediate family, my brother was the only one who made the effort to visit me regularly. It was a very scary time in my life and his presence made a difficult time easier to handle. I loved him even more.
Over the years, he grew into an amazing young man and I was a very proud sister. When I moved from New Orleans to Houston, Texas, I missed being a part of his everyday life. Still, I reveled in the important events in his life, like his graduation from high school, leaving home for the first time to attend college and more. Because of family and work obligations, I was unable to join him in celebrating many events, but I was certainly there in spirit. I looked forward to our telephone conversations and as he grew older, it was clear that our thoughts and feelings were in sync.
It devastated me when doctors diagnosed him with non-hodgkins lymphoma at the tender age of 23. He’d only just graduated from college and had yet to begin his life. He had an aggressive form of the disease with a grapefruit-sized tumor in his chest that had grown in less than 30 days, so it was a serious condition. His doctors immediately began a rigorous protocol that involved chemotherapy and radiation. I was in my last grueling year of law school and a single mom with two school age kids, so I was unable to go with my mother to San Francisco to be with him. Of course, I kept in constant contact with my mother, but it was a poor substitute for being there with them.
Having no alternative, he moved back to New Orleans so that my Mom could help care for him. The chemo and radiation continued for some time and it was two years before doctors declared him cancer-free. He was never the same. Adding to the tragedy, the radiation damaged his heart to the extent that at his young age, he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and the only option was a heart transplant.
One thing that I loved about my brother is that he researched everything, to make very well-informed decisions. He had a computer long before almost anyone that I knew did, and quickly learned his way around the internet. After thoroughly researching the area of heart transplant and learning the plethora of negative side effects that would last for the rest of his life, he opted to forego a heart transplant. I was afraid but respected his very thoughtful and courageous decision, because even though he was cancer-free, the serious complications with his heart resulted in frequent visits to the hospital.
It was a very difficult time for him, but I admired the way that he confronted the situation with a bravery and grace that I hoped to have were I in his shoes. By this time, the little brother’s wisdom surpassed his big sister’s and I was fine with it. After his condition somewhat stabilized, he made a decision that further amazed me. He decided to return to school to get a Masters in Communications. After all that he’d gone through, and although he was still sick, he choose to move on with his life. Once again, he researched and decided to move away from home to enter the Master’s program at the University of Oklahoma in Norman, where he remained until his death in his last semester of study.
My brother was a courageous and gentle soul filled with compassion and a zest for life. He had a thirst for knowledge and adventure, and allowed nothing to hinder his dreams or his faith. He was everything that one could want in a brother and in my heart, he still lives and influences my life. More importantly, my love for him still grows, and he is and will always be my brother, wherever he may be. Nothing can severe our sibling bond, After all this time, suddenly, the answer seems so clear.
“And you will continue now, and forever, to redefine your relationship with your deceased loved one. Death doesn’t end the relationship, it simply forges a new type of relationship – one based not on physical presence but on memory, spirit, and love.” ~ Ashley Davis Bush, “Transcending Loss”
Finally, I have discovered the answer that lay in my heart. The next time that someone asks me “the” question, I will not hesitate to say, “I have three siblings — two sisters and one very special brother.” Of that, I no longer have any doubt.
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