I've worked with children for many years and get to see up close and personal the devastating effects of fatherless children. Trust me, it is not a pretty picture. This blog is a letter from the heart of a child, explaining life as it should not be, when daddy is a non-factor. Although it is entirely fictional, it isn't, unfortunately, entirely unrealistic.
~S. Denice Newton
Monday, June 22, 2009
Dear Daddy:
I don't know your real name so I'll call you daddy even though you're not one. I wanted to say happy father's day to you on yesterday but you weren't here. I'm writing to you on the day after father's day because I want you to know what it feels like to have an important day go unrecognized; you know, days like my birthday, Christmas, and other times when most fathers are around and enjoying their kids.
I'm hurting daddy and it's all your fault. It's not the falls from my bike that hurt me. It's not the stomach aches that kept me awake through the night that hurts. It's not even the dreaded needles that the doctor gives that brings me pain. No, it is the deafening silence of your absence. It is a pain like no other. There is no amount of children's tylenol that can take it away. No, it only grows worse as I age.
It all began at conception. You and mom came together as one. It doesn't matter if it happened as the result of a real love affair or a "heat-of-the-moment" fit of passion. All that matters is that I resulted. You don't know this but at the very moment of copulation, hope rose up and possibility sprang forth from your loins. When you reached the acme of the moment, you sent me bursting forth in search of life. I found it in the safety and security of my mother's womb and nestled there without a care in the world. No, all was well. As I grew and developed, I became aware of voices. Of course, mom's voice was the most familiar. She talked about me a lot. She made plans and preparations. Sometimes she got sick and wished that I wasn't inside her but I knew she really didn't mean it. Other times I heard her fears. She wondered how she would care for me but I wasn't concerned. I wanted to assure her that you would be there to help. Sometimes she cried and the "inner tears" would fall softly upon my face. I first heard your voice when mom told you about me. I was so excited! "Daddy is gonna be so thrilled to know that I'm coming," I thought to myself. But the voice that responded to the news was not so pleasant. In fact, the voice was angry and accused mom of telling lies. I was confused yet, I held on to the hope that daddy would come around. Finally, the day came for me to meet the world. I had been preparing for nine whole months and had the strength to push and navigate my way through the channel of life.
Once I passed through the birth channel, I began listening for your voice. I found the deafening silence of your absence. I entered the world in the hands of a doctor and after God breathed the breath of life into my nostrils, I opened my eyes and looked for you. You were not there. I looked at mom. Even though she'd just endured the trauma of childbirth and was completely exhausted, she looked beautiful. I looked around the room and saw several unfamiliar faces looking down at me. Strange though, no daddy.
Mom and I soon went home to begin our new life together. She took real good care of me. She still loved me even when I would scream out in hunger in the middle of the night. Mom would get out of bed, her eyes red with fatigue and see to my needs and comforts. I still looked for you. You were not there. "Maybe he'll come soon," I often said. Babysitters became a part of my life. Mom would get up early in the morning, wash and dress me, feed me and take me to the sitter. She often looked so very tired. As soon as she picked me up from my bed in the mornings, I would smile at her and touch her face. I wanted her to know that it would be okay. She would smile back and give me a "thank you" kiss. I loved those moments.
When I took my first steps, it was mom that stood ready to catch me if I fell. It was mom who said, "you can do it. Don't be afraid. I'm here." Once I mastered the walking thing, I went room-to-room in search of you. "He has to be here someplace," I said. But once again, I encountered the deafening silence of your absence. I learned to walk, run, and ride bikes. I learned to dress myself, brush my teeth, and use the potty. I learned to count, say the alphabet, and memorize my address. All under the watchful eye and praises of my mom. But no daddy.
The real pain began when I started school. I was in Kindergarten. Mom and other family members and friends made sure that I had what I needed: a backpack, new clothes, and school supplies. When mom took me to school on the very first day, we passed a lot of moms and dads in the hallways. My heart pounded with excitement. "Daddy has to be here," I thought. I looked at each and every daddy face, hoping to see my own reflection. But they were all with other little boys and girls. Once I was settled into my classroom, hope began to fade. The deafening silence of your absence was getting stronger and louder.
Throughout my school years, I secretly longed for you to show up for parent-teacher conferences, for school musicals, award ceremonies, and anything else that called for parental involvement and support. You never came. Mom knew the pain that I was feeling. I'd often ask about you. She would talk about you but with disappointment in her eyes. She hurt for me. Yet, she never talked bad about you. She encouraged me to just "pray" that God will touch your heart so that you would one day open your eyes and see what you were missing. But for me, the deafening silence of your absence drowned out any communication between me and God. The pain was just too great and my longing soon turned to bitterness and hatred. Constant rejection will do that.
I needed a daddy's influence in my life. I needed daddy to teach me things that mom couldn't. It was supposed to be a partnership. Mom teach some things, you teach others. But mom taught 100%. It was so hard for her. Sometimes I acted up and got into lots of trouble because I was angry. I was angry with you. The deafening silence of your absence pierced my eardrums and caused me many days of pain, imbalance, and hearing loss. I began to hear only negative voices and influences. They spoke the loudest. Just like your absence.
My high school days were the worst. With mom working so hard, I had very little supervision and intervention. I drank alcohol. I used drugs. I ran with gangs. I broke the law. I didn't care anything about consequences. Consequences didn't care anything about me. You know all about that though. I became a juvenile delinquent who made frequent trips to juvenile lock up facilities. Mom cried. A lot. I hated to hurt her but I couldn't control my actions. After all, I am my daddy's child right? Irresponsibility was my middle name. Poor judgement was my clothing. Bad decisions made up my DNA.
I dropped out of school and became a full time gamin--a street urchin, a public nuisance. From petty crimes to extreme violence, I did it all. I was an "equal opportunity" criminal and did not discriminate based on race, gender, or economic status. Everyone was my target. Mom cried some more. She blamed herself for getting involved with you. She felt that my actions were the direct result of your absence. She was right. Every time I committed a crime, I thought about you and how I would have welcomed the opportunity to inflict pain in your life. But being the coward that you are, you never came around. I never got the opportunity. In some ways, you are very lucky.
Mom finally gave up on me. Do you know how that feels? A mother's love is so deep and so unconditional that we take for granted that it would always be available. And it is. But everyone has limits and when I pushed mom far beyond hers, she finally gave up on me. And when she did, the evil forces of life accosted me. I committed a heinous crime which put me behind bars for life at the tender age of 19. Thanks daddy, you should be proud. The deafening silence of your absence permeated the core of my very being and dictated my life's course.
Happy belated Father's Day, wherever you are. Know that I've been shaped and molded by your absence. Your gift to me has resulted in negative consequences which threaten my very existence. I was conceived in hope, raised in hopelessness, and will now die in both physical and emotional pain. I've finally learned how to communicate with God past the deafening silence of your absence. I've asked him to forgive me for all of my wrongdoings, even the hatred that I have for you. I've heard that He is a just God and if He is, He will forgive me. I'm also praying that he opens your eyes one last time to the news headline of the day that read
"ABSENCE IRRESPONSIBLE JR., DIED BY LETHAL INJECTION TODAY AT 12:01 AM. HIS CRIME: A BUSTED EARDRUM AND BROKEN HEART."
Are you happy now DADDY? I am no more.
Signed,
Your Son
Absence Irresponsible Jr.
~S. Denice Newton
Monday, June 22, 2009
Dear Daddy:
I don't know your real name so I'll call you daddy even though you're not one. I wanted to say happy father's day to you on yesterday but you weren't here. I'm writing to you on the day after father's day because I want you to know what it feels like to have an important day go unrecognized; you know, days like my birthday, Christmas, and other times when most fathers are around and enjoying their kids.
I'm hurting daddy and it's all your fault. It's not the falls from my bike that hurt me. It's not the stomach aches that kept me awake through the night that hurts. It's not even the dreaded needles that the doctor gives that brings me pain. No, it is the deafening silence of your absence. It is a pain like no other. There is no amount of children's tylenol that can take it away. No, it only grows worse as I age.
It all began at conception. You and mom came together as one. It doesn't matter if it happened as the result of a real love affair or a "heat-of-the-moment" fit of passion. All that matters is that I resulted. You don't know this but at the very moment of copulation, hope rose up and possibility sprang forth from your loins. When you reached the acme of the moment, you sent me bursting forth in search of life. I found it in the safety and security of my mother's womb and nestled there without a care in the world. No, all was well. As I grew and developed, I became aware of voices. Of course, mom's voice was the most familiar. She talked about me a lot. She made plans and preparations. Sometimes she got sick and wished that I wasn't inside her but I knew she really didn't mean it. Other times I heard her fears. She wondered how she would care for me but I wasn't concerned. I wanted to assure her that you would be there to help. Sometimes she cried and the "inner tears" would fall softly upon my face. I first heard your voice when mom told you about me. I was so excited! "Daddy is gonna be so thrilled to know that I'm coming," I thought to myself. But the voice that responded to the news was not so pleasant. In fact, the voice was angry and accused mom of telling lies. I was confused yet, I held on to the hope that daddy would come around. Finally, the day came for me to meet the world. I had been preparing for nine whole months and had the strength to push and navigate my way through the channel of life.
Once I passed through the birth channel, I began listening for your voice. I found the deafening silence of your absence. I entered the world in the hands of a doctor and after God breathed the breath of life into my nostrils, I opened my eyes and looked for you. You were not there. I looked at mom. Even though she'd just endured the trauma of childbirth and was completely exhausted, she looked beautiful. I looked around the room and saw several unfamiliar faces looking down at me. Strange though, no daddy.
Mom and I soon went home to begin our new life together. She took real good care of me. She still loved me even when I would scream out in hunger in the middle of the night. Mom would get out of bed, her eyes red with fatigue and see to my needs and comforts. I still looked for you. You were not there. "Maybe he'll come soon," I often said. Babysitters became a part of my life. Mom would get up early in the morning, wash and dress me, feed me and take me to the sitter. She often looked so very tired. As soon as she picked me up from my bed in the mornings, I would smile at her and touch her face. I wanted her to know that it would be okay. She would smile back and give me a "thank you" kiss. I loved those moments.
When I took my first steps, it was mom that stood ready to catch me if I fell. It was mom who said, "you can do it. Don't be afraid. I'm here." Once I mastered the walking thing, I went room-to-room in search of you. "He has to be here someplace," I said. But once again, I encountered the deafening silence of your absence. I learned to walk, run, and ride bikes. I learned to dress myself, brush my teeth, and use the potty. I learned to count, say the alphabet, and memorize my address. All under the watchful eye and praises of my mom. But no daddy.
The real pain began when I started school. I was in Kindergarten. Mom and other family members and friends made sure that I had what I needed: a backpack, new clothes, and school supplies. When mom took me to school on the very first day, we passed a lot of moms and dads in the hallways. My heart pounded with excitement. "Daddy has to be here," I thought. I looked at each and every daddy face, hoping to see my own reflection. But they were all with other little boys and girls. Once I was settled into my classroom, hope began to fade. The deafening silence of your absence was getting stronger and louder.
Throughout my school years, I secretly longed for you to show up for parent-teacher conferences, for school musicals, award ceremonies, and anything else that called for parental involvement and support. You never came. Mom knew the pain that I was feeling. I'd often ask about you. She would talk about you but with disappointment in her eyes. She hurt for me. Yet, she never talked bad about you. She encouraged me to just "pray" that God will touch your heart so that you would one day open your eyes and see what you were missing. But for me, the deafening silence of your absence drowned out any communication between me and God. The pain was just too great and my longing soon turned to bitterness and hatred. Constant rejection will do that.
I needed a daddy's influence in my life. I needed daddy to teach me things that mom couldn't. It was supposed to be a partnership. Mom teach some things, you teach others. But mom taught 100%. It was so hard for her. Sometimes I acted up and got into lots of trouble because I was angry. I was angry with you. The deafening silence of your absence pierced my eardrums and caused me many days of pain, imbalance, and hearing loss. I began to hear only negative voices and influences. They spoke the loudest. Just like your absence.
My high school days were the worst. With mom working so hard, I had very little supervision and intervention. I drank alcohol. I used drugs. I ran with gangs. I broke the law. I didn't care anything about consequences. Consequences didn't care anything about me. You know all about that though. I became a juvenile delinquent who made frequent trips to juvenile lock up facilities. Mom cried. A lot. I hated to hurt her but I couldn't control my actions. After all, I am my daddy's child right? Irresponsibility was my middle name. Poor judgement was my clothing. Bad decisions made up my DNA.
I dropped out of school and became a full time gamin--a street urchin, a public nuisance. From petty crimes to extreme violence, I did it all. I was an "equal opportunity" criminal and did not discriminate based on race, gender, or economic status. Everyone was my target. Mom cried some more. She blamed herself for getting involved with you. She felt that my actions were the direct result of your absence. She was right. Every time I committed a crime, I thought about you and how I would have welcomed the opportunity to inflict pain in your life. But being the coward that you are, you never came around. I never got the opportunity. In some ways, you are very lucky.
Mom finally gave up on me. Do you know how that feels? A mother's love is so deep and so unconditional that we take for granted that it would always be available. And it is. But everyone has limits and when I pushed mom far beyond hers, she finally gave up on me. And when she did, the evil forces of life accosted me. I committed a heinous crime which put me behind bars for life at the tender age of 19. Thanks daddy, you should be proud. The deafening silence of your absence permeated the core of my very being and dictated my life's course.
Happy belated Father's Day, wherever you are. Know that I've been shaped and molded by your absence. Your gift to me has resulted in negative consequences which threaten my very existence. I was conceived in hope, raised in hopelessness, and will now die in both physical and emotional pain. I've finally learned how to communicate with God past the deafening silence of your absence. I've asked him to forgive me for all of my wrongdoings, even the hatred that I have for you. I've heard that He is a just God and if He is, He will forgive me. I'm also praying that he opens your eyes one last time to the news headline of the day that read
"ABSENCE IRRESPONSIBLE JR., DIED BY LETHAL INJECTION TODAY AT 12:01 AM. HIS CRIME: A BUSTED EARDRUM AND BROKEN HEART."
Are you happy now DADDY? I am no more.
Signed,
Your Son
Absence Irresponsible Jr.
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