Lost Fathers

Thank you to an unknown editorial author from the New York Times. His story inspired me to take time to write my own, borrowing heavily from his content. I hope this inspires others to create their own story.

There are many old color photographs, faded from years of storage, of my sons and me. Many are with my oldest son swimming in an overseas lake or swimming pool, or sitting on the sofa both playing guitar. Permanently captured on paper, these photos capture a happier time, and remind me of all that I missed in both their lives.

There are no guidebooks on how to reenter a son’s life. There is no Web site that will tell a father what to expect or how to act when he and his sons begin to spend time together again after many years of no involvement. How do you greet each other? How do you tell them that it’s not their fault? And, can a father assuage himself of a mountain of guilt by becoming involved in his sons’ lives after the hard work of raising them well is already done? These are issues a previously absent father must tread around carefully.

There are millions of absent fathers; there are at least that many children out there who are wondering who their fathers are. Barack Obama recalled in “Dreams From My Father” that when he was small, his father just vanished. “It was into my father’s image…that I’d packed all the attributes I sought in myself,” he wrote. When Mr. Obama was told that his father had died, he said, “I felt no pain, only the vague sense of an opportunity lost.”

My sons were not going to miss his opportunity. But would they want to know why I didn’t or couldn’t stay with their mother and in their lives? I would expect such a question, but knew I would have trouble answering, or maybe not be able to answer at all.

I was from a dysfunctional family, first-born of six to a Philadelphia Jew, and a southern girl whose biggest childhood challenge was keeping her abusive father out of her pants. Both suffered from massive self-esteem problems that compelled them to compete with their children rather than insure the kids all reached higher levels than they had.

Their children’s attempts at success were subconsciously but systematically sabotaged, leaving the children frustrated and confused; an environment that did not groom the sons to know much about the obligations of a dad. As Mr. Obama has said, fathers often “abandoned their responsibilities, acting like boys instead of men.”

My sons need to know that it was not their mother and it was not them, I just had no sense of responsibility at that early age. I just dropped out and ran away. For that I am truly sorry, and I understand any anger or resentment they may harbor.

My sons have never asked why, but I would rather have it out in the open. Maturity, years of experience and acceptance of personal responsibility have left me no reason to lie, and no reason to hold back. I want them to judge me. Their condemnation could free me; their forgiveness might allow me to try to become the father I never was.

It is too late to pick up where my sons and I left off so many years ago and I certainly won’t make the mistake of trying to act like a traditional dad. But I like the idea that we are friends, and that one day we may feel the love we had for each other when they were little boys.

It looks as if my boys turned out O.K. The credit for that goes to their mom.

The oldest is a doctor married to a doctor, and they have two awesome children; one girl, one boy. The youngest has two beautiful daughters, a wonderful wife, and is very much like me; always questioning authority, and always believing that he can prove the exception rather than the rule.

I thank God for both of them every day.