“Mom, when is Daddy coming home?” I said. “He’s on his way, sweetie, but I will tuck you into bed tonight, as usual.” Mom said miserably. There wasn’t anything wrong with my mom tucking me in at night – every night, but sometimes I simple wanted to see my dad’s face before I closed my eyes.
I am a product of a fatherless child. At first it was bothersome to me because I was the only one of my friends that didn’t have their father around. The most distinctive memories of my father are his drunken nights, his clothes smelling of smoke, and his arrogant excuses as to why he could not and would not love and care for my mom and I. The last memories I have of my father aren’t the slightest bit of happy ones, but they are still memories that I like to hold on to as a reminder of what I came from and how great my life turned out to be, without him.
Back when I was little, when I was naïve and didn’t really understand what a struggle was, my mom would always try to hide her emotions about my dad and his ever-so-often absence. She would always say “Baby, you are my joy. If I never loved your father before, I loved him the moment he gave me you.” I would smile and give her slobbery kisses every time. I didn’t know I was what soothed her, what made her willing to get up in the mornings and deal with my dad’s foolishness. I didn’t know I was also hurting her because of the times I asked for him instead of her, or when I wanted “da-da” to hold my hand instead of “ma-ma.” As I grew older, my perspective changed. I saw my dad for what he really was: just a guy who made a mistake who didn’t know how to handle his responsibilities. The moment I began to understand my situation as a little girl, I began to realize that it wasn’t my dad, or a dad specifically, that I needed in my life. It was love, sincerity, and motivation; and I had it all in my mom.
Once I accepted the fact that my father would never be a part of my life like I once wanted, I began to compare my lifestyle to that of my friends. I thought I was at a disadvantage without him, or that I was lacking characteristics other girls my age had because of their bond with their father’s. I thought I was abnormal because I didn’t have any father-daughter moments to brag about to my friends. After a while those things didn’t seem to matter to me anymore. I realized that every moment without my father, were moments that brought me closer to my mom. I knew that I was as happy as they were, with or without a father.
Throughout my younger years, I struggled with accepting a life without my dad. I went from hating my dad for leaving us alone, to blaming myself for his absence. It took a while for me to understand that I wasn’t the only child in the world growing up in a single parent household. Reflecting back on my life, I see that I’ve accomplished many things without my dad. Even though it took me a while to understand why my dad mistreated my mom and me, or why he preferred to spend his time with everyone except us, in time, I was actually thankful for his absence. Now, I appreciate the mistakes my dad made when I was a little girl. If it wasn’t for his mistakes, my life would not be the same.
by: Jasmine Ford