Confessions of a Fatherless Son

The last time I spoke to my father was in 2015. We never had the father-son relationship that every man would want. My dad and I would only speak on a needs-basis. If something went wrong on my car, I would call him to come see what the problem was. He would come by, look at the car, and we would have small talk. The small talk we had lasted for about 3 minutes, followed by a ten minute pause, then another 3 minutes of small talk. If we had to go get car parts, he would drive and I would be in the passenger seat, and the only sound in the car would be the music playing. We never really spoke.

Outside of coming by when I called about my car, he would call every week or so to see how I was doing. However, the conversations lasted for about 5 minutes or less. He never took the initiative or time to get to know me. & as a teenager/early adult I was okay with it. I never thought that it would have an effect on me until I found out he was engaged and preparing to get married in 2015.

This was when it hit me to know that my father had enough time and effort to get to know a complete stranger, spend ample time with her, and make a life commitment to her. The same energy and time it took for that commitment, he could’ve devoted some time in getting to know his son. He could’ve spent time teaching his son things that only a man can teach. He could’ve been a real part of his son’s life.

I feel that a part of my unhappiness comes from being fatherless. I had to figure out things on my own. I had to build my own masculinity and my own image. I never had a male role model. I had to teach myself EVERYTHING I know about men and myself. I was ridiculed and bullied by family members when I wasn’t “masculine enough”, causing me to distance myself from them. Being fatherless really caused distress in my life.

As of now, I don’t think I want a relationship with my dad because I honestly feel as if it is too late. However, I know that if I don’t work on that relationship, I’d never heal. I just hope that things change for the best.

If I were to have a conversation with him, here’s what I’d say:

Should I call you dad,

or just a sperm donor?

If I needed cash,

you were a money loaner.

If you had it when I called,

yeah you were there.

But every time you come around,

it’s a blank stare.

Tell me why you never taught me how to be a man.

That’s just something that I can’t seem to understand.

Now, I’m lost and I can’t seem to find myself.

In and out of therapy looking for some help.

Sometimes I wanna call you up and tell you how I feel,

but it’s a wound so deep that just can’t be healed.

I pray I find it in my heart to forgive and forget,

but the way I feel inside is that I’m your regret.

That ain’t no way that a person should feel about their dad,

& what the world doesn’t know is that I’m hurting bad

I feel the tears building up as I’m typing this verse.

I’m hoping that this is not a generation curse.

Maybe one day we can have a conversation and I hope you’d understand……