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.