The Furthering of Fathers

Fathers have not had a prominent role in my family history.  I never knew either of my grandfathers; they died long before I was even thought of.  My father outlived my mother by many years; unfortunately for many of those years he was not an easy person to communicate with.  But then, he never really was.  He had bi-polar disorder before the word was coined, but it caused him to suffer lengthy periods of severe depression.  Although there was a long period of time when medication kept him on an even keel, that stopped working in his later years.  While I’m glad he lived close to me for his remaining years, it’s not what you’d call a memorable relationship.  My two children have different fathers; one of those has passed on as well.  I’m very glad my son now has a good relationship with his father and that my grandson has several males to foster good relationships with.

I have given up trying to figure out the root causes, but today it occurred to me that I should explore the whole subject of fathers.  When I was growing up the ideal “Dick and Jane” family consisted of the mother, father, two children and a dog.  We had the first three, but it was never quite the same.  On TV sitcoms and in children’s readers, Mother stayed home and kept house, Father went to some type of office (he usually carried a briefcase) and came home to his smiling family.  No wonder I was a confused child.  My father worked a series of different jobs at odd hours, interspersed with unemployment, mental illness and a few stabs at “learning a trade” (I remember printer and furrier).  My mother also worked a variety of jobs: waitress, factories, and  offices.  My father’s moods, even when not clinically depressed, had highs and lows; there were periods of constant anger, or those of jocularity and intense activity.  Since I didn’t understand this I was frequently in conflict with him over a lot of petty details.  I remember one time I decided not to speak to him for a few days, but he didn’t even notice.

I never doubted the love of either of my parents.  As an adult, I realize my parents went through some hard times and did the best they could. At my mother’s funeral, my father shocked me by making an eloquent speech about her goodness as a person, and that was when my tears really flowed.  But, in the end, there were too many barriers to ever feel truly close to him.

My children’s’ relationships with their fathers were also conflicted and difficult; after years of self-flagellation I’ve learned I can’t change what went before.  What will change is how my grandchildren grow up.  Only one now, but he definitely has a father who will always be close.  I know my son-in-law will be an excellent and devoted father.  In addition to who they are, the attitude towards fathering has changed dramatically since I was a child.

No longer is the father a distant idealized image, who visits and “babysits” his children periodically.  He is expected to be there from birth forward.  There are actually stay-at-home Dads, two-father households, single father households, and grandfathers raising children.  Today I salute my own father, Benjamin Miller, and all those in the role of father everywhere!