In our culture, it is expected that a father and a mother take care of their offspring. In the case of my two oldest children, this was not possible. I was twenty five years old, living in France, with a five month old and a three year old when I discovered that my ex was cheating on me. It took me six years to get myself and my children to Canada to live and be close to my family.
I remarried that same year. Once again, there was a father figure in my children's lives after a three year absence.
Despite the fact that my second husband did his very best to co-parent with me, I felt the burden of the past weighing heavily upon me every time there was a problem. And there were many, especially with my son, who had potential way beyond my means of giving him what he needed to fulfill it.
Now, at twenty five, my son is going to be a father. I still worry for him and his growing family. But today, on Father's day, something happened inside me.
I was in my father's garden.
"Are ye tired," my Da asked.
"No. I'm sad."
"Why?"
"I'm not quite sure."
He made me comfortable and left me for a moment. In that moment, I was aware of my son, talking with my brother in law, Anthony. He was talking about work. They had just been for coffee together. My son was confiding in his uncle, and my lovely brother in law was taking care of him. I felt a weight lift off me. I thought, "I never needed to worry. I just needed to wait until my son was ready to reach out".
He never lacked men, role models, help or fathering. He just didn't see the need for them and now he does.
I feel like a part of my work is done. I delivered him into life and I delivered him into family. What more can I do?
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