Sunday, June 17, 2012
Father's Day Thoughts, Mk 2
Another year, another Father's Day that doesn't really belong to me.
Rather than my own fatherhood duties, meditations on the meaning of fatherhood in a world that is fast forgetting it, I find myself thinking about my old man instead. In the end, Father's Day still feels like his holiday, not mine-does that ever go away?
When I was growing up, it felt like Grandpapa had all the answers. I know now that some of them were wrong, but they were still answers. But I've never felt like that; in most ways I feel like I never have any answers at all. Often I delegate hard decisions to Amanda and just handle the bellowing. That isn't right, and it isn't that I think she knows better than I do, but internally I can never quite rationalize that in Gracie's eyes I am that motherfucker that Grandpapa was to me as a kid, that I am the one with all the answers when the chips are down, when the shit hits the fan, when the cue is behind the 8-Ball.
I'm not the world's greatest dad; I know that for damn sure. Too lazy and self absorbed maybe-my brain is always on my own convoluted plots for world domination and double head, plus, well, I'm fuckin' baked all the time. I don't think I could ever be one of those dads that sacrifices every scrap of personal identity for the status of patriarch. I've made whatever peace I can with this-but Gracie still doesn't know that I am not superman, the look she gives me every day that says Daddy Can Fix It All has not gone away.
I don't ask myself to be perfect; that is an irrational expectation even for non stoner parents. But God Almighty, how the fuck am I ever going to live up to that little girl's expectations? If they were even half the expectations I had of my old man, the answer is "not very goddamn well, sir."
I miss you Grandpapa. I'll try to be you as best I can.
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You just lived up to her expectation, maybe without even knowing it. I also looked up to my Grandpa and I certainly admire my father who had all the answers, even though they were never written down. When my first son was born, I was worried I would not live up to the same level of fatherhood greatness as my dad, so I asked him for advice. He said that being a good Dad was the cumulative summation of the little things you do for and with your children, each day, every day. If you sweat the little stuff, the big stuff just works out. That was 17 years ago and he was as right today as he was then. God bless the fathers who, imperfect as they may be, work hard and love their kids each day. And fuck the greasy Hollywood faggots who ridicule and demean fatherhood every chance they damn well get.
ReplyDeletetrue dat mr. dave
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