Sunday, June 16, 2013

To my "two dads"...

Life took an ironic twist for me during the 2011 holiday season.

Within a month's time I lost two very prominent men in my life, both of whom held the same title of "Father" but clashed in terms of overall style and execution. The man whom I clearly resemble couldn't be more different than me on the inside. There was no meaningful bond between us for reasons that will always remain a mystery, and though I am not bitter about it, that disconnect will occasionally rear its ugly head as a reminder of what could have been had circumstances been different. I'll never grasp certain truths about that relationship because, to me, fatherhood should always be about preparing a child to be the best THEM they can be rather than a mere "sample" of the original. With the man whom I am bound with biologically, there isn't a single day where I recall him caring for me simply as David because that was not paramount in our life together. Scripture tells us (1 John 4:19) that "we love because God first loved us." In other words, the blueprint of how to become "love" (and thereby build a bond) began with the one who preceded us. But what do we do if we are aware that such a bond should have existed but was never developed? And in my case, what am I to do if I later discovered that the principal builder of this bond, who demanded inordinate amounts of respect and adoration, was actually a deliberate stranger who took carefully orchestrated steps to keep me in the dark? On a day like Father's Day, where children are expected to say 'thank you' and show honor to their dads (living or deceased), how should I remember and honor someone whom I hardly knew or cared for?

The summer of 1988 (when I was 18 years old) was the worst I had ever experienced, the lone redeeming factor being that I had met my second father who became my mentor, spiritual adviser and confidant. He remained a prominent figure in my life for nearly 24 years until his passing shortly before Christmas of 2011. The bond I had missed with my biological father had been firmly established with the surrogate. Besides my husband, "Pops" was undoubtedly the most down-to-earth individual I have ever known. He exuded class and everything he did, from the way he leaned back in his chair during our numerous talks to the way he held his pipe and blew smoke into the air, was with a "Bogart-esque" elegance. Sometimes I catch myself trying to emulate his mannerisms, yet remain a poor substitute by comparison. I took his death very hard, and given the fact that I was on my way to spend the holiday with him when he died, it made his passing all the more difficult. Everything - from how I interact with others to the goals I set for myself - are all as a result of the teachings that came from him. I was headed for a life filled with stress, self-doubt and (perhaps) unfulfilled dreams had Pops not come at the right moment, and today - despite all that happened during the summer of 1988 - I'm grateful for having met him and for all the years that we shared together. The heartache of losing him will never go away, but the knowledge that he is here, inside of me, is all that I could ask for.

Some might say that I'm wrong for publicly expressing my feelings so openly, especially in regards to my biological father, but clearly I disagree. The ability to be honest about who I am is the by-product of my struggle to grow into a strong and capable human being, something that I feel dad would hope for, even if he didn't contribute to it directly. Some might wonder why would I ever consider a white man to be more of a dad to me than the one I am genetically and culturally related to, but I would say that regardless of who it is, the basic tenets of manhood never change. Being in-tune with culture does not guarantee I will eventually become a responsible, law-abiding citizen. It also does not mean I will treat my fellow man with compassion and love. While Pops was never black, he also was never negligent in the responsibility he undertook from the day we met. He never deceived me or made me feel unwanted or unloved. And he never intended me to be an extension of himself, although the desire (to a certain extent) to be a copy-cat is clearly my own doing. I'm grateful to have had someone for so long whose main interest was in helping me get to the next level so I could eventually do for myself.

So whom should I honor on this day? Should it be the man I resemble externally or the one I resemble internally? Well, I'm proud to say that it should be both, for one without the other makes me being who I am today impossible. So here goes...

To T. Lee Boyd, Jr - thank you for giving me life and for sending me to St. Ignatius College Preparatory. My alma mater gave me more than just a high school diploma; it made me aware of the gifts within me and set the stage for positive self-examination that I reap the benefits of as an adult. Had I not gone to that school at your insistence, I would truly have missed so much.

To Reverend Thomas Michael Gannon, SJ - thank you for helping me to 'stay the course', for being an exemplary role model, for taking the risk and investment necessary to help a young man who had lost his way. My heart aches everyday because I cannot tell you face-to-face that I love you, but I manifest that love through everything and everyone I come into contact with. Like you - my attempts are not always successful - but my heart remains firmly in the right place, and I have you to thank for that.

Happy Father's Day to my two dads. I love you both.

David