Father’s Day is…Hard AF
Today is Father’s Day and my heart is filled with a heavy with a mix of emotions. On one hand, I am grateful for the joy and love that my own children bring into my life. However, this day also serves as a painful reminder that I no longer have my father in my life. It has been nearly three decades since his passing, yet the struggle to comprehend a life without him persists.
When my father passed away, I was just a young child and the concept of death was foreign. It left me feeling numb and confused. Questions began to emerge: Why was I the only one among my friends who lost a father? Why was I destined to grow up without him? As time went on, anger replaced confusion, as I felt cheated by this cruel fate.
The relationship I had with my father was far from ideal. There was no deep connection or bonding between us. Instead, I mostly feared him. While others in our family marveled at the greatness of their “Uncle Junior,” my mother, brother, and I experienced a different side of him — a darker side. We were subjected to freezing cold shoulders, constant verbal belittlement, and a seemingly absence of love directed towards us.
Life during those years felt like walking on eggshells, forever uncertain of his moods. As a child, I only received glimpses of his negative behavior, but my mother and brother endured it for years. His actions left lasting scars on them, destroying their confidence and self-worth. And yet, outside of our home, he presented a different persona — sweet, kind, cool — the man everyone admired.
As I grew older, I became aware of the stories that unfolded, and my resentment towards him grew. I hated how he treated my mother, how he shattered my brother’s confidence, and how he failed to be the father I needed while he was alive. Just as he started to make positive changes, he was taken away from us. I can vividly recall the day he passed, as if it happened yesterday.
My father and I rarely spent time together, except for him picking me up from school or camp. Most of my male bonding experiences came from my brother and older cousins, rarely from my own father. So, when he invited me to join him at church one Sunday, I was filled with excitement. We were supposed to spend the day together, but as I was getting ready, the phone rang. My mother entered with bad news — my father wasn’t feeling well and need a doctor immediately.
At first, I thought it was an excuse, too good to be true. But the reality was harsh. We rushed him to a nearby hospital, where we discovered his ongoing battle with high blood pressure had taken a turn for the worse. They struggled to stabilize his heart rate, but within a week, my father passed away.
That moment has left an indelible mark on my life. I have had to navigate through years of wonder and “what ifs.” What could our relationship have been? What kind of man would he have become after turning his life around? What kind of grandfather would he have been? The answers to these questions will forever remain unanswered.
Each year as Father’s Day arrives, I find myself wrestling with conflicting emotions. Yet, in the midst of the pain and unanswered questions, I am reminded of the power of forgiveness. My father was far from perfect and neither are we. As I’ve gotten older and became a father myself I understand that forgiveness is not about condoning or forgetting, but about freeing myself from the weight of resentment and allowing healing to take place. It is a process of releasing the grip of anger and finding peace within myself and seeing our fathers and those who came before us as perfectly imperfect humans.
Happy Father’s Day Dad and to all the men of the world.