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I never told my father that I loved him nor did I hear that from him. Most people will never know what it’s like to have a father who doesn’t appear to care if you’re alive or not (thankfully).
Growing up, Father’s Day was no different than any other day. I had no father to celebrate because he was states away living his life.
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Every child instinctively knows if their parents love them or not, and it centers on one word: Effort.
We don’t have perfect parents in this world; we just have a line between parents who care enough to try their best and those who don’t. Children are forgiving to a fault, but man, is it hard to make excuses for a man who didn’t even try.
When my father lacked, I felt it. When I needed him the most, he wasn’t there, and until the day he died, he felt like a complete stranger.
All of this created a fatherless wound that made me question my value to the world. At times, it made me desperate for love and scared that people would leave.
Since my son was born, I made Father’s Day about my son rather than the child within me. It was a day where I was glad to end the cycle for my son’s sake, but I think deep down, I still crave having a father to call or text the way my son is able to.
You hear about people burying their parents, but I found out my father died months after he passed. Worse, I didn’t even cry, because I mourned his death years prior since I knew he was never going to talk to me again.
Since I was baptized, things have felt different for me about craving a father that is no longer alive to right his wrongs. Instead, I now have a Heavenly Father who loves me regardless.
This past Sunday I was at church, and on the monitors it said, “We love you, Dad,” but it wasn’t aimed at the men in the room; it was targeted toward God.
It was two hours of me trying to hold it together (because I hate crying in front of people) until a church elder talked to me afterward, and I cried like a child.
It wasn’t tears of sadness; it was joy. It was hard to explain at the moment, but I just felt grateful for being saved because I know what it feels like to be lost.
It was me realizing that even boys like me without a father have a Father in God.
Father’s Day, a day that used to be meaningless for most of my life, means everything to me now.
Speaking Wrong At The Right Time is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
And what solidified that day was looking at my phone and reading a text from my son telling me how I’m the best father he could ever want and that I’m his role model.
Maybe Sunday was a day of healing or a day of appreciation — or both? But for the first time in my life, I feel absolutely whole.
In spirit, I was never without a Father. My fatherless wound is rapidly healing, and I’m thankful to the Lord for helping me through this.
Where my father lacked, my Heavenly Father hasn’t. Praise Jesus.
