A Father’s Gift

My first memory of my dad was when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I remember not eating my dinner and, in an old fashion manner, my mom told me that if I wasted food, I would have to go straight to bed. My mom told me not to ask for anything else. Looking back now, I understand that this was a reaction to poverty and wasting food was not something that was allowed because of the scarcity. Nonetheless, I went to bed and woke up in the middle of the night hungry. I walked into my parents’ room crying and telling them how hungry I was. My dad got up out of bed and carried me to the dining room. As he held me, he poured out a bowl of cereal for me and sat me down at the table. As I ate, he sat with me. That memory sits with me and creates a feeling of warmth almost to the point of tears whenever I think about it. I think about it more often now as I learn more about myself through my experiences with my parents.

I grew up watching my dad’s behaviors: studying him so I can learn how to be a man. I grew up seeing him work two jobs in efforts to feed his purpose and provide for his family at the same time. Late nights he would come in exhausted and sometimes aggravated with the world, his situation, or positionality in life. He didn’t always know how to express love and looking back now, I see what was interrupting his ability to express it all the time. It’s hard to express love when the stress of being devalued at work is in the forefront of your mind. It’s hard to be present with your children emotionally if the dream to be a full-time pastor has been met with multiple obstacles. Looking back, I can see why my dad wasn’t emotionally present and through our conversations in the car I’ve been blessed with the chance to learn more.

            My dad and I didn’t always have the best relationship growing up. There were many things said to me out of anger that I held onto for years. There were moments when I didn’t feel safe enough to speak to him about my emotions or feelings due to his interactions with me. As time went on, around the age of 22, him and I spoke deeply about our relationship. I expressed the parts of our relationship that caused me to feel unsafe and unsure if I could ever open up to him. He listened and didn’t interrupt. There was silence before my dad began to apologize. My dad identified his harm and, even though we both knew it wasn’t intentional, he took ownership of his actions and words. I could hear the sincerity in his voice and, in that moment, I was able to begin my journey to forgive him and heal.

            This was extremely important for my growth as a Black man and important to my healing process. Through this conversation we were able to work through and navigate through disagreements much easier than before. We were able to listen to one another and I was able to learn from his life experiences. As time went on, we shared our narratives with one another and through his narrative I was able to see myself. I noticed that him and I accommodated others and would shrink ourselves in order to make others feel comfortable. I struggled with this up until recently but without me hearing his narrative and us opening up to one another on our car rides to and from home, I would not have been able to heal as much I have thus far. My dad became a resource for me to understand myself in a deeper way; to see where I acquired the characteristic of the people pleaser or accommodator.

            Even my start to therapy was an attempt to people please. I started therapy in efforts to be a better partner for my then girlfriend. I felt myself pulling away emotionally and I thought going to therapy would allow me to heal enough to open up emotionally. My therapist reminded me that therapy is meant to be a self-healing journey that prioritizes my wants and needs. She challenged me to think about the parts of me that I liked and least liked. I was invested in understanding myself more so I used my time of isolation during the beginning of the pandemic to do the homework to the best of my ability. In the process of writing what I least liked about myself, I wrote about my dislike toward myself for being overly accommodating. In that moment, I blamed my dad for this characteristic. I blamed him for passing the characteristic of accommodation, compromising, and overly apologizing. I blamed him to the point of being upset and even though our relationship had grown, at the age of 27 I was upset with my dad again.

            My therapist allowed me to explore the complex feelings that came with doing the self-exploration homework. Prioritizing my feelings toward my dad had been placed lower on the list due to my relationship issues at the time. As we worked on my ability to see myself as worthy of love, the pocket of anger I had with my dad came up again as another relationship in my journey was ending. After an emotional start to the week, my dad, sensing that I was not being my normal self, offered to pick me up from work. His exact words were “If you need me to pick you up from work, let me know. I love you.” That same feeling I had at the age of 4-5 when he poured me a bowl of cereal resurfaced and all I could do was smile. I think about how my dad drove me to work after my break up and allowed me to cry in the front seat. I think about how he picked me up after I couldn’t get through the day of work or how he reminded me to eat even though my body couldn’t ingest food. During my heartbreak, my dad showed me the love that I hadn’t seen from him since I was very young. He offered love and because we had done the work to understand one another, I was able to accept it. His love taught me how to offer love. He taught me to only offer what I have to give: that love is an open channel of mutual compromise. His love showed me that love is to be there for someone intrinsically. Our relationship now has helped me in so many ways that I don’t fully know he realizes. At times, I still get upset with him because he doesn’t believe in himself the way I believe in him. Sometimes, I get upset with because I don’t think he fully understands how much he has added to the man that I am, thus he doesn’t give himself enough credit. I used to be so upset with him but now I cannot think about the lessons he has taught me without crying in appreciation.

            Not until this past November, did I truly understand that the gift I once disliked him for wasn’t about him giving me the gift. The anger was toward myself for not learning how to use the gift in a healthy way. I used to see compromising, accommodating, and apologizing as a deficit: something that made me gullible and weak.  In turn, I damn near hated my dad for it but I knew the feeling was displaced. As I walked toward the train station that day, I realized that it is up to me to set boundaries with myself in order to access the true beauty of accommodation, compromise, and apologizing. For so many years I had lost myself in romantic partners because I didn’t know how to set boundaries with myself. I had to stop blaming my dad and romantic partners. I had to start looking inward to see that I needed to forgive myself for not knowing how to use the gift in a healthy way. Now, I compromise and accommodate with boundaries. Now, I assess what I am actually apologizing for so I can give a true apology. Now, I offer only what I can and give with my heart.

My dad gave me a beautiful gift and even though I wish this man would have given me an instruction manual for it, I am grateful for the gift. I no longer see it as a deficit. I now see it as a gift that I must protect. I thank and appreciate my dad for expressing his love and growing with me throughout our father and son relationship. It is a love that is still helping me heal and helping me unpack the patriarchal masculinity that is inside of me. Through his words I have consistently been able to see my worth. Through his prayers I have continued to learn to not worry. Through his words I have been able push forward in times I didn’t have the energy to. The gift of unconditional love is not easy to sustain in a world that can be harmful but I thank my father for planting the seed and watering it every chance he can get. I truly appreciate him for his love.

Thank you, old man. Love you.