When a Father doesn't Want to be a Father

I haven't seen my father in over twenty years. My last conversation with him became an argument. We argued over his attendance to my wedding. The day of my wedding, my father had signed up to play in a golf tournament. Because he had paid $100 to enter the tournamemt, he refused to forfeit that cost to walk me down the aisle.

Yes. My father didn't want to walk me down the aisle because he didn't want to lose the money he had paid for the gold tournament. During that conversation, I had hoped to use my wedding day as I chance to reconnect with my father and rebuild our relationship. My father had been in and out of my family's lives since I was a little girl. As a young woman, I still held on to the hope that my father loved me enough to want to be a part of my life. I was so wrong.

My father was a selfish man. He was also a bully and a brute. I describe him in the past tense because I'm not sure he's alive anymore. Since I haven't seen him since before my wedding day, I lost contact with him. So I assume that he has left this world and the family he helped to create behind.

My father only cared about himself. He made that clear during my childhood when he left my mother to care for two young children. My brother and I soon became use to our father popping in and out of our lives. Mom was always there - providing a roof over our heads, making sure we had food to eat, and sacrificing her needs to make syre we had clothes on our backs. My father thought giving mom %50 from time to time was a big deal and never let mom forget his infrequent contributuons to our family.

In addition to being a part-time parent, my father was an abusive tyrant. Whenever he came over, our house went from a safe and warm sanctuary to a cold prison. My brother and I would stay in our rooms whenever our father came to the house. If the house were in disarray, he would yell, his voice filling every square inch of our apartment. Depending on his mood, his yelling was our preferred choice. If my father were really mad or had a particularly hard day at work, he would punch and slap mom.

Father liked to use force. I remember one time, my father sat in the living room watching tv and the rest of us were in the kitchen. He had come over from working as a bus driver for the MBTA and smelled of bus fumes. He sat down and watched tv, while my mother made jokes and stuck up the middle finger behind his back. Being young and impressionable, my brother and I followed suit. We could barely continue our giggles. We continued to do do until our laughter caught our father's attention. He also caught me giving him the middle finger.

At first, father said nothing. He comtinued to watch the television screen. We were silent in the kitchen, holding our breaths. After several minutes, we began to relax as father stared at the tv. Then, he called me over to him. I slowly walked over as if I were a prison heading for the electric chair. I stood next to my father as he watched the tv screen. Suddenly, he grabbed me by the wrist. My father, who was over six feet tall and weighed well over 250 pounds, had my wrist in an iron grip.

"Shirley, I am your father," said my father. "You are not going to disrespect me! You hear me, girl?!" I nodded my head, too scared to speak. Father released my wrist with s shove and I scurried back to the kitchen. My mother placed her arm around me, while my brother hid behind both of us. Father didn't say anything further. He just continued to stare at the television.

As an educator, I hear a lot of stories from my students about absent fathers. Some fathers left to start new families. Some fathers didn't claim their children. Some are in jail and some are dead. Whatever the situation, fathers need to ne in their children's lives. But their presence must be loving and supportive. My father was a draconian warlord terrorizing us with his mere presence. We were happier when he wasn't around.

Fathers can influence their children in many ways. For me, my father's lack of love and support led me to make the wrong choices when it came to men. I sought men who would be the opposite of my father and often times had relationships with men who were exactly like my father. I suffered abuse and neglect more times than I care to admit.

On Father's Day, let's celebrate the father who are there. The fathers who respect the mothers of their children. The fathers who work hard to provide for their families. The fathers who teach their children to do better and be better than them. These fathers are heroes and deserve respect. For those fathers who choose not to support their families, they lose so much than they know.