“You are not the father!” This has to be the crown jewel of
the Maury Povich one liners. But even if Maury would tell me that one of my three
children was not biologically connected to me according to the DNA test results
I would call him a liar! At this point my fatherhood tenure genetic make-up
means very little in the grand scheme of things. I am a daddy determined not to
repeat the practices of far too many guys who generously donate 23 chromosomes
then take flight like the iconic Jumpman logo on Michael Jordan’s sneakers. I
feel privileged that God has given me gifts beyond the furthest reaches of my
imagination in the physical form of my children.
I’d like to challenge every man who is dealing with custody
issues, relationship woes or other miscellaneous drama that prevents you from
seeing and spending time with your children. You can spend your time, energy
and emotion pissed off about your situation or you can chose to relentlessly
pursue a relationship with your child/children despite the time, energy and
effort it will take to accomplish your goal which I’m guessing is to have the
opportunity to participate in the rearing of your child/children. I’m in no way
suggesting that this is any easy feat. There are definitely obstacles which
create barricades, blocking and blinding some men from their children. I know
far too well what those experiences are
like.
My pilgrimage to paternal parenthood has definitely been a
twisted trail of trivia and emotional trauma. On one hand I am the epitome of
one of the lines in a poem I wrote, “He’s the personified portrait of a
stereotype. Three babies from three different ladies and no wife. These aint
boasting and bragging rights about slanging pipe. Just an example of how he
didn’t make wrongs right.” On the other hand I’m the recipient of wealth beyond
reason and mercy that minimizes any amount of monetary value. My children are
my fortune and my future. God truly uses them to lead me in the right direction
and remind me that He gives His precious gifts not based on my merit but out of
His love.
I’m almost 40 and I’m finally experiencing what it feels
like to be a fulltime father. It is painful as hell to be a long distance dad.
At any given moment I could cross paths with a father and his child and I would
get a little choked up. There’s nothing
more heart wrenching than hearing your child cry for you but you are
geographically separated and financially incapable of positioning yourself to
save the day and come to your child’s rescue. The toughest times for me were
the goodbyes after I would spend time with my babies. As soon as those tears
would well up in my son or daughter’s eyes a lump the size of the planet Jupiter
would jam itself in my throat and the only thing I could swallow was the
residue of recycled regret.
I had to
involuntarily savor the disgusting flavor of internal turmoil and I would
remind myself that, “This is all your fault for scattering your seed on waves
instead of allowing roots to grow deep in fertile soil.” The glassy haze from my children’s cloudy eyes
would always foreshadow the approaching saltwater shower that was about to
spring from my own eyes.
One of my greatest fears was not dying. Abandonment was my
ultimate inflictor of pain but not for me though. My fear was that my children
would feel as though I deserted them didn’t care.
For years my thoughts were tormented by
mental missiles and subliminal skyrockets that would explode unexpectedly and leave
me with injurious imagery of myself as the ULTIMATE failure of a father. I could hear voices in my head collectively criticizing and
condemning me and I believed every word. “Look at you! You’re pathetic. You’re
still in college and your babies need money. You aint no man. You another dead
beat down.” “So what’s your excuse now?
You’re not married and now you’re on your third baby. You are better off dead.
At least the kids would get your life insurance.”
As a result of my self-imposed internal Mortal Combat, I was
left to look like a raggedy retriever doggy paddling in a reservoir of regret
instead of enjoying each opportunity I had to spend with my children. Enduring
almost a dozen unsolicited abortions didn’t help either. Based on my reputation, women considered it a
curse to entertain the thought of having my child. Each one of those nameless,
faceless babies followed me in my heart as well as my nightmares and I saw
myself as the scum of the earth. I
couldn’t self-medicate with enough weed or liquor to get over all of that pain.
All of that has changed now. I see my past as nothing more
than a previous path that I traveled for a season until I changed the
calibrations of my personal navigations so I could go in a different direction.
Now I use all of my failures from yesterday to help me stay focused as a father
right now. My oldest son’s lives with me
and my youngest son lives with me three days a week. Despite the dirty diapers and occasional temper tantrums, I thoroughly
appreciate the mornings I wake up to my smiling face one year old and the scowl
of a grumpy teenager. I look forward to
every escapade I take to see my adolescent daughter in Jackson, Mississippi. I
don’t know what’s better my youngest son’s smile or my daughter’s hugs, my
oldest son’s jokes or my daughters grades, my youngest son going to the potty and
then giving me a standing ovations when he sees me going potty or my daughter
calling just to check on me. I’m torn
and I love it.
I have learned to appreciate life beyond my own unrealistic
expectations of myself. I finally realize that it matters not how low I was in
the pitiful pit that I dug for myself. It doesn’t even matter what obstacles
other people placed in my path to prevent me from seeing my babies. What matters most is that I not only climbed
out of the pitfalls of my past but I continue to dream in Hi-Definition. Now I’m
writing down my dreams in vivid detail so that I can stick to the script in
order to turn my burning desires into bond fires blazing with accomplishment!
I am now comfortable with my failures and imperfections and
my 12 and 16 year old help me with that tremendously. If it’s not my daughter
poking my tummy and complaining about my gut it’s my oldest boy complaining
about my cooking. I cooked some tilapia the other night and his response was,
“Wow this is…[awkward silence leading into his usual animated antics] terrible dad!” All I could
do was laugh as I corrected him with suggestions on how to rephrase his disdain
for what I considered a dinner delicacy. His honesty was disgusting yet
refreshing all at the same time. Those two help keep me humble. I’m just living
the simple life of a proud father and it just don’t stop.
Fathers of all walks of life know that your love and your
presence are the wings of assurance that your babies desire and need in order
to take flight with confidence and soar over clouds that obstruct the clear
view of their futures!
No matter what obstacles are preventing your from embracing
your child/children and enjoying the benefits of fatherhood, I implore you to
search out your little ones and chase
after them with reckless abandon so that actions of love speak louder than any sentimental
three word phrase! Just know that despite the cause of your separation from
your little ones or older ones, I feel you and God hears you.
