Thanks Dad - Being There
November 17, 2010, By Ron Mattocks 10 comments
During bedtime the other night my stepdaughter, Allie, made a remark to my wife that caught me off guard. “She sat up and said, ‘You know, Mom, Ron’s like a real dad to us.’” The way I leaned back in my chair made it appear as if those words hit me with the same physical force as they did emotional. Allie said that? Really?
Earlier that day, Allie’s class had put on a show in honor of Veterans Day. It’s all she talked about throughout the week, and because I had served in the Army, she expected me to attend. But there was a problem—a doctor’s appointment that overlapped with the program. I winced realizing this. Rescheduling wasn’t an option, yet it was so obviously important to my stepdaughter that I see her singing—singing for me.
I explained the situation to Allie, hoping to set an expectation that would ease her disappointment if I didn’t make it. She said she understood, but still, I couldn’t bring myself to commit one way or the other as to my final choice. “Being there” is critical to my stepdaughter’s emotional well-being; so much so that she has to see a therapist in order to manage the anxiety that’s resulted from too many years of too many people not being there for her.
Well before I entered the picture, Allie’s life had already been a series of uncertain situations lasting just long enough for her to feel safe, only to then disintegrate the moment she did. Today things are different. Allie has stability, and the positive effects of this are a evident in her behavior and attitude. She’s come a long way. Still, despite the best efforts of her mother and I, Allie continues to be let down by the one person she wants a real relationship with—her biological father.
I have ground the enamel off my teeth watching Allie struggle through the hurt from another of his broken promises, another of his extended absences, another of his excuses for missing a school function. Though justified, the anger that grows within me over my stepdaughter’s fading hopes is wasted because it’s useless in fixing her broken heart. Along with this is an added frustration in knowing that, regardless of all my sympathy, I will never be able to understand what she’s going through inside.
As a boy, I didn’t have to contend with the emotional complexities that result from having an absentee father. Mine was there for me, a blessing I took for granted at the time, but now recognize the significance of. For my dad it was a priority. I remember his vow to be at all of my soccer and basketball games. His own father never saw him play sports, not once, and it left a mark on my dad. Even while working a sales job eight hours away from home during my sophomore year, Dad would drive the entire way back to make the tipoff and hear my name announced as part of the varsity starting line up.
On the day of Allie’s musical, I went to the school, found a seat and waved my hand in the air until her toothless grin said she recognized me. I stayed for the whole thing. I wanted to see that same smile again at the end of the program when the veterans in attendance are recognized, and she sees me stand up. I knew what this meant for her, but I didn’t know just how much until my wife told me later that evening.
Letting the significance of Allie’s words sink in, I was overcome with a sudden gratitude for my father’s example. Without it, I may have squandered a small but crucial moment in a little girl’s life. And then a thought occurred to me: How my children one day view me as a father will be determined almost entirely on a lifetime of insignificant acts—insignificant acts like being there at basketball games and school musicals. Thank you, Dad. Not only were you there for me, but in a way, you are there for my own children as well.
We all thank dad for different reasons ... check out more Thanks Dad from the Man of the House team.
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