Daddy Dearest…

This has been on my frontal lobe for the past couple of days, so I better jot this down before I forget it. So Father’s Day is coming up this Sunday, and it seems like almost everyone I know is doing something special for their pops on that day. This has been a holiday that I have never been really jazzed to celebrate: a.) because I kinda think that buying power tools, Old Spice, and a booger-green tie is not the best reflections of showing how much you care for someone that helped give you life; b.) some of the Daddy Day cards seem kinda bootsy (i.e corny, played out, lame); c.) I have and probably never will have anyone to celebrate on this day. I have and never will have a father. Please don’t take this post as my giving a jaded view of my life as a fatherless child, because my intentions are not to make this a bitch and moan session… I’m just being real as usual. I remember when Phil Donahue, Geraldo Rivera (before the whole Capone’s vault mystery finds), and Sally Jesse Rafael (before the “send the punks to boot camp” shows), used to have these episodes in which they would help someone reconnect with loved ones. They would always have some father or mother seeking a long lost child, but unbeknownst to them, the producers located their kid and they were secretly waiting in the audience. At the opportune time, the kid, posing as an audience member would ask the mom or dad in a tear-jerking, frog in the throat voice, “If you had the chance, what would you say to them?”, followed by a “Mom/Dad, I’m your son/daughter!” They embrace, as their muffled microphones capture their shrieks and sobs of joy, finality, happiness, and resolution. I wanted that to happen for a long time. I stopped hoping for that when I was 13. It’s funny how through your life time, a lack of caring can develop. Over time, my thoughts have ranged from wonder, mystery, excitement, hopefulness, anger, apathy, and more recently, to not really giving a shit. I’m 27 years old, I don’t know if it’s possible to make up for all the missed birthdays, the tough days at school, cleaned up knee scrapes, dried eyes, etc.
I am truly thankful that there were folks around to pick up the slack. My mom, grandma, aunts, uncles, third cousins twice removed, and whatnot. But if anything, my bro picked up a lot of the slack. The funny thing is that he is only 5 years older than me, but he managed and had to grow up pretty damn quick. Aside from trying to transform me into the lil bro he never had by making me permanent quarter back in the street football games on the block, or teaching me how to read baseball stats without a glimmer of confusion; my bro had to assume the role of what I figured a father to be – the disciplinarian, the comforter, and the protector. Sometimes I don’t think I thank him enough for getting us through all the rough times. He deserves a lot more credit than we can ever give him.
Sometimes, I wonder how it will be to have a father in my children’s lives. How I will react to seeing the interactions that they have with one another. Albeit it’s from a totally different perspective, but then again, will it be?
Anyway, I hope those that are doing sometime special for their papas are able to have a fun and safe day. But more importantly, I hope that you remember to let them know how much you care about them throughout the year, instead of waiting to the third Sunday in June.