A Fathers Joy

A quiet moment with my father.

I listened to the excitement in his voice as he described the plan for a one night escape, yet it wouldn’t be with his wife, but rather his daughter. Upon my friend's return, I was all ears as he recounted the getaway with excitement filling every descriptive sentence, and without warning tears stung my eyes. He explained how back on her college campus he was hosting his daughter's guy friends for a round of golf, and how her friends filled his cramped hotel room playing poker and guzzling White Claws. One tear escaped, dripping down the crevice of my nose, despite my intent of keeping them contained. I happily let him talk knowing my voice would crack and continued to enjoy his pride and unbridled joy. A palpable joy permeating through my car speakers as I sped along the interstate.

How can you know if someone will be a good father when you get married at twenty-four? What did I even know about parenting at twenty-four? I will tell you what I knew at twenty four. Nothing. That's what I knew about parenting when I walked down the aisle.

My heart aches for my daughters to feel the genuine, unconditional love of a father like that of my friend. The rock solid, I’ve got your back no matter what feeling that only a father can show through actions. I’ve begun to notice the sharp differences between what my children have experienced, compared to what they could have. As my friend shared his father daughter relationship with me, the reality of what my girls never had cut through to the core of my heart. It wasn’t the night away they spent at a fabulous hotel, or the way he enveloped her friends, but rather the tone in his voice, the clarity of love for his daughter matched by his actions and I knew both were limitless.

I am sure somewhere beneath the ache in my chest guilt weighs on me for not being able to fix it for my daughters. I can take action in many ways to make their life easier, show them I adore them, be present physically and emotionally, but I am helpless regarding the relationship with their father. 

I listen to fathers recount the hours driving to weekend long sports tournaments, volunteering hours to build sets for high school plays, renting an RV to create a memorable adventure, rushing home from business trips to make the first football game, setting up professional tripods waiting to film a three minute equestrian run, sitting for hours in a dark auditorium on a gorgeous spring day to make sure he’s there for the dance competition awards ceremony, or the father that secretly hides in a parking lot to watch sports practices with pride. Their sacrifices and inconveniences are not seen as such through the eyes of these fathers. They are seen as opportunities that arise on a journey that's a mere eighteen years of a lifetime. 

I feel the years of  loss. Losses, quite honestly, my daughters may not understand for many years. There are fathers that attend their children’s activities when it’s convenient, there are some who show up to say they’re there because it’s what they “should do” but it’s those fathers that truly want to be there as a parent, and understand how the investment in their children's interests and passions impact their developing hearts and brains that make an impression on me. 

For many years I chalked it up to be a “mom” thing, which is what my children’s father told me. “Dads don’t do that.” or  “No dad does that!” or “No dads are going to be there.” I accepted it, despite all the dance dads, and equestrian dads, and hovering tennis dads at every practice and clinic. I worked hard, actually double time, to ensure my girls felt that their passions were important and valued.  It may seem silly and irrational, but I feel somewhat responsible for my girls not having the type of father they deserve now and deserved throughout their childhood. Their grandfather, my father has stepped into that role for many years. His unconditional interest, love and support filled a void that they weren’t even aware of.  

When I dream of my future, I dream of the most perfectly blended family and you can be sure I’m analyzing every suitor's fatherly skills. This time my choices will be with my daughters in mind. My happy ending is not only a man loving me, but loving my girls equally. I’m not looking to replace their father by any means, I believe it is imperative for children to have their father in their life, and I have had way too much therapy to believe otherwise. Trust me when I say, I wish things could be different. Each day, I wish my daughters could experience what I know they are missing, but it’s likely I feel the hurt more than my daughters.  Every child deserves to feel like they are their parents priority. To feel the dependability from a parent that allows children to feel safe and secure, but the real gift is when a parent can convey joy and genuine interest in their growth, and passions unconditionally.