Monthly Archives: August 2016

Fatherless child: Part 2

A week ago my big sis had a dental surgery. Dad drove her to the hospital, albeit reluctantly. He didn’t know what went in there but mom, who was with her the entire time came home distraught. She likened her experience to what Mother Mary must have gone through when she saw Jesus being tortured during His Passion; a mother’s pain when she sees her child suffering and can do nada about it.

When dad travelled out of town for work, he left her on an entirely liquid diet and he never called even once to find out how she was doing. He had her cancel her review appointment, knowing that the particular surgeon is only available once a week, so now she’s waiting for tomorrow’s appointment, which he still intimated she should cancel. All this while I’ve been thinking, if he cared even the slightest bit, he would have feigned some concern. That way we would never have known how much he detests us.

In very blunt words, dad has been the bane of our lives. The way I see it, he hates to see us happy. When he gets the impression we’re happy he does something to sabotage it. So if someone asked how it feels to have a father, I may not have anything positive to say about it.

Last Saturday he came home drunk as usual, and started complaining to mom how my small sis had told him he wasn’t her father.

“Mom, let’s find another dad,” he said, mimicking my small sister’s voice when she was younger. I was actually surprised because I didn’t know he had heard that years ago. Those are words my small sis said when she was around five, and now it’s years later. When she said that, she did it innocently because she had seen how happy other kids looked when they were with their dads, yet with us, the only thing we felt was misery.

He let us go hungry when he had money stashed in his bank account; spent nights outside drinking away… he made us know how it feels to live in a house where parents fight, physically, and as mom was the weaker of the two she always ended up hurt.

When I heard him mimicking my sister, I couldn’t help but think, if he heard that years ago, how come he never made an attempt to change? A good parent would have been concerned why their five year old daughter was saying such a thing. Instead, he only became more brutal, as if trying to emphasize the point. He didn’t seem to care what we felt/thought about him.

“Go find yourselves another dad,” he barked. “You think dads are bought in the supermarket. I’m leaving,” he told mom before walking out to go back to the bar, even though he was already drunk. “Let me know when you find another dad.” With that he left, and he came back the next day.

I know this might sound wrong, but honestly, I have more than enough reasons to believe that there are children who grew up fatherless, for whatever reasons, and have led happier lives than my sisters and I. Every time I picture myself raising my children in a home like the one I’ve grown up in-God forbid-I shiver, and I usually find myself thinking that it’s better to not have a family in the first place, because reliving this would be an absolute nightmare. I wouldn’t even imagine putting my kids through what I’ve been through myself.

When I was a child, I had a dream; that my dad would change and be a better man. Now I’m all grown up and almost moving out, and that dream didn’t come true. Sometimes, no, most of the times I fear that once I walk out of that door, I’ll lose his number and sever all possible ties I have with him. I’m afraid that one of the things I desperately want is to change my surname, because it constantly reminds me that he is my father.

Point is, I did grow up with my father. But if that has added any value to my life? I’m not sure. All I know is, I don’t want to be anything like him. When I get my own adorable children, God willing, I want to be everything he’s not; loving, caring, forgiving, empathetic…

There may be someone ‘fatherless’ out there who feels their lives would have turned out better if they had a dad; but take it from me; the grass is not always greener on the other side. For all I know, there are many children who grew up not knowing their fathers but who had very happy childhoods. Because at the end of the day it’s not about someone merely associating themselves with a father figure, but about what role that ‘figure’ plays in someone’s life. To some they are a blessing; and to others a curse. That’s just how life is.

 

 

Fatherless child: Part 1

absentee fathers

Fatherless child. Ever wondered who’s a fatherless child? I have a few ideas: it could be a child whose father is already dead; or it could be a child whose mother had more than one lover so she might not be able to tell who exactly is the baby’s father; it could also be a woman who had to raise a child alone because the father abandoned them; or it could be a child who knows the dad but he’s ever absent so the child considers him/herself fatherless.

I’m not oblivious to the fact that there may be other definitions of a fatherless child, but for the purposes of this post, discussion if you’d rather, I’ll limit myself to the aforementioned options since those are the ones I’m truly conversant with.

This post was prompted by very weird happenings; and I say weird, for lack of a better word. First of all, there’s this lady who works with mom. She has a three year old cousin whom she takes to mom’s beauty salon. So a few weeks ago mom playfully called him by his three names; the last being his surname.

Innocently, the kid told mom he wasn’t going by that surname anymore, and naturally she got curious. “My mom told me that one left us,” he answered innocently, when mom sought to find out why he was denouncing his surname.

“And the one you live with?” Mom asked since she knows the kid’s dad; or at least she thought she did.

“That’s not my real dad, but he lives with us.”

“D’you call him dad?” Mom pried.

“I just call him by his name,” he answered.

In my opinion, I felt the boy was too young for his mom to be telling him such complex matters but then again, even if she didn’t, someone else (think a nosy relative/neighbour) would beat her to the punch at some point. Anyways, that gave me the impression the boy already knew the man they live with is not his dad and that his actual dad deserted him and his mother. I couldn’t help wondering what would happen when later in future he meets him, knowing what he does now.

Then coincidentally, when I was coming home from court last Friday I overheard some neighbours’ kids talking. From my estimation they’re about three years old because they all recently joined kindergarten.

“Timmy says he doesn’t have a dad,” the only girl in that group of five children said. Timmy was also in that group, just listening silently.

“I have a dad,” another one said.

“Every child has a father and a mother,” the girl added confidently.

“But Chad says he’s the only one who has a mother and a father,” another one added. Chad wasn’t in the group with them but I know him and he’s a somewhat bratty kid who’s been mollycoddled by his parents a lot because he’s the last of three sons; so I kinda figured he had said that braggingly. I wouldn’t blame him though; his family emits the happy, perfect family vibes, unlike mine.

By the time I passed them, they were still debating about their friend Timmy being fatherless and whether it’s even possible for someone to be without a father. I pitied Timmy because I’ve heard of kids being bullied by others because they don’t have fathers. Thankfully those ones were not trying to make him feel bad about his fatherless condition.

Then in another totally unrelated instance, my small sis was arguing with dad. It wasn’t an argument per se. It was just dad doing all the talking while she on the other hand tried to block him out so she could finish fixing her breakfast.

He came home drunk in the morning after spending an entire night out club hopping and he found her in the kitchen. Mom had taken the car keys away because he always goes out to drink and by the time he comes back home he’s usually too drunk to park it.

Since he didn’t know who had taken the car keys and mom had already left the house, he assumed it was me or my sisters. When he started with his drunken rumblings, insulting us, my small sis just lost her cool and told him, he’d never been a father to her.

I understood where she was coming from; we’ve lived with him all our lives, but we couldn’t feel more fatherless. He’s been emotionally unavailable all through and never once has he tried to make up for the hurt he’s caused us. So even though we carry his name everywhere we go, we know it’s only a name.