A Personal Post

Father's day just passed a couple weeks ago and reading through posts on Facebook and Twitter, I ran across many people taking a stand for absentee fathers.  Posting things like, "Happy Fathers Day to ALL fathers, even absentee fathers..." blah, blah, blah.  Well, I didn't respond to those posts then because everyone is entitled to their own opinion and when it comes to a touchy subject that is based solely on personal experience, it's just not something I feel is appropriate to discuss via social network.

But I will say this now, loud and clear: I do not and will not ever praise men who make babies and simply walk away like a predator walking away from its kill. You are not worthy and in the same aggravating way, you are not replaceable. You are the cause of sleepless nights and broken hearts. You are the problem and the solution at the same time. You are the root of all tears, the root of her fears, you are the one person who could keep her from a broken heart yet the first person to break it. This is wrong. You are so wrong and all it would have taken to do the right thing was to make a mockery of your silly ego. Your pride is a dangerous unyielding thing.

Don't worry, we will remember her birthdays, Christmas, first steps, first words, and the quirky way she rolled her thumbs on the dinner table when the food was too good for words.  We will wash her scars and rock her back to sleep when nightmares awake her.  We will attend each and every graduation, honor ceremony, and dance recital.  We will be the family who lurks creepily around the school dance to make sure she is "okay."  Do not fret, we will be there when that one guy steals and then breaks her heart.  I will watch her come into the world, pouty-faced and all, I will hold her mother's hand when contractions have gotten the best of her and the morphine has worn off.  I will take her far, far away when depression strikes and she should see no part of any of it.

I will love her fiercely and teach her how to be loved and most of all I will teach her you are but a single discolored misshapen feather in her wings.  And that she can do anything and soar far above your misgivings.  And finally, I will watch her grow and become a woman, who bears children of her own with a man who will run circles around you and put you to shame when it comes to being a father.

The saddest thing of all is that you will just never know how much you could have been loved.