Father’s Day has always been an uncomfortable day for me and one that I am only too happy to fast forward through to the following day, where it can be quickly forgotten. My mother was a “man pleaser”, as was common in her era. Females were considered to be second class citizens and of little importance. She idolized my older brother, who was the only boy in the family, and left my cold, authoritative stepfather to deal with me, which often involved his belt.
I have no frame of reference for a loving father. I know that I share this plight with millions of women who have grown up with missing and/or abusive fathers and stepfathers. For me, Father’s Day is like one of the sappy Hallmark® movies that portray a kind of love that does not exist in the real world. I am certain there are many men as well, who lacked good male role models and who find this holiday one which only brings up painful memories.
I was fortunate that in spite of my divorce from my daughters’ father, he has remained a permanent fixture in their lives. He is loving and he is kind and I know he means the world to them. I found it amusing that my youngest went through a period of being quite angry with him. She referred to him at that time as her “sperm donor” and I was her “birth giver”. Fortunately, this did not last long and what adult has not at one time or another, been angry at one, or both of her parents? It is part of the ongoing growth that we humans go through.
Three of my four granddaughters’ fathers’ are active in their children’s’ lives. My oldest granddaughter’s father was a troubled soul and he is no longer alive. Now she is in her early twenties and I fear that like me, she has much sadness to overcome. While I can never know what it feels like to be truly loved by a father, I appreciate those fathers who have remained in their daughters lives and shown them that they are worthy of love.
