So, my son is 8 years old as I have disclosed before. But, I have not been his “Daddy” for 8 years. True, he has always called me daddy since he could say it, but I was not always around for him to be called daddy. It’s not like I have been away for his whole life, but for around 2 years I was. And even when I was around him physically, I wasn’t there emotionally and mentally and you can most certainly rule out being there as a role model. I was very sick. When I was “there”, meaning living under the same roof, I was usually intoxicated, high, or struggling with sobriety. Oh, and just so you know, sobriety is no struggle, I just made it that way. Anyway, I played with my son when I could, I took him places when I could, I bought him things when I could, I laid on the floor and drew pictures with him when I could, I coached his tee ball team when I could, etc…. The problem with that is, I was only doing it when I “could”. This does not mean, when I wasn’t at work, making dinner, running errands and so forth. “When I could” means, when I wasn’t going to the store (which meant hitting up Coldspring and Park Heights), or sleeping it off, or vomiting, or stealing shit, or sneaking in the bathroom to take one more shot because the one I took a half hour ago didn’t hold me.
But, when I was there, he called me daddy. And if anyone ever asked about being a father, or commented about how much it seems that my son loves me, I played the role of father of the millennium. I told them all the good things I have done and omitted all the things I hadn’t. I told them about all the things I bought, acting like it was a worthwhile struggle to budget the money so that I could provide more for the family, when the reality was I was selling our food stamps for dope and coke. The reality was I was pawning the game systems we bought for them. The reality was I was using the eight dollars I scraped up for gas money so that I could get in town and hack (drive people around for money). So that I could quench my thirst. I was using the money I could’ve been, I should’ve been spending on food to buy what I needed so I could struggle for 15 minutes searching for a vein in my neck.
I was an aggressive father. I snapped when I got angry, then tried to be the kids best friend when I felt sorry for them and myself, and couldn’t understand why they were scared of me. My step son caught the worst of this behavior. He was older, and never deserved to witness a third of what he witnessed. What am I saying? That poor child didn’t deserve to see anything he saw. He was, still is a good, very thoughtful child. I walked around with a warped view of fatherhood. I had a delusional chip on my shoulder about the way my father parented me because I got hit with a belt a handful of times growing up. The truth as I know it today, is that I deserved that and much more , even though I believe there is never a reason to hit a child…..ever. I vowed never to hit my kids when I had them, and that didn’t hold true. I live a different way today, and because of that I never have a reason to hit my son.
A lot is different today. My son’s sentences include the word “daddy” about every 3 words. And I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s cute. “Hey daddy, look at this daddy. I made this thing, and daddy, isn’t it cool?” I had given up on the idea that I would ever be in a position to be privileged enough to be a daddy again, to hear those words escape my son’s lips again. I didn’t want to live anymore because of this. G-d wasn’t ready for me to die though. I see today why I didn’t. I am my son’s daddy. I love hearing that word when he says it. Sometimes, shit right now as I’m typing this, my eyes are tearing up a bit just thinking about it.
I have zero desire to put anything in my body except love. He needs me, and I need him. And we both need G-d. And right now, at this moment, we all have each other. And I am happy. And he, well, he has a loving present daddy.