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By: D. Sylvester

As we get closer to Father’s Day, I wonder about the pain of those who don’t have a close relationship with theirs. My father was around my entire life until recently. The demise of my parents' relationship slowly pushed him further and further out of my life. Calls became less frequent before their split, and now that my mother resides in my home, I can go months without talking to him.

We never had the strongest relationship, as he always felt competition for my affection. I remember he used to say, “I know you love your mother more than me.” I used to think about what that meant. Did I not showcase that I appreciated his existence in my life? I mean, I harbored anger towards my father for being of a mental and physical terror, but I always managed to find gratitude for his presence in my school and work development. He spent more time molding me as a student and professional than a daughter.

I never felt safe to be myself and express my feelings. So I closed off, shut down. As the years rolled on, I guess I was just as much of an active participant in our distant relationship. Even now, I feel split between wondering where he lives and if he’s okay, and not caring if we talk consistently. I love my father, but you have to understand this is a man that let me know early on that he “didn’t have to love me.” He didn’t have to love me; those words are still etched in my brain.

He didn’t have to love me.

He let me know his love was a privilege that I only deserved if I lived my life for him. When he and my mom separated, I remember thinking that if he didn’t have to love me, did that mean I could abort ship, too? Could I now declare that my love was valuable and worth being fought for? Could I exist in this world knowing that while my daddy is alive, I would surely walk this earth without him? No father for the bride. No hug for the graduate. No grandfather for the children. Could I exist in a world without my daddy, knowing he still exists?

I think the pain of abandonment shows up in spaces I wouldn’t otherwise notice. My friendships, my relationship, how I interact with others. The idea that I must hurt first or leave before I am hurt. Those concepts stem from this failed relationship that has been embedded in my life. I always go back to: What did I do wrong?

My first inclination is to say I did nothing. I was a child who was nurtured in this way—being shown that love is harsh on one side, but that it is also warm on the other. On the flip side, I have learned that just as I was nurtured, so was my father. The love he received was what he continued. “Love” meant providing for family; the rest of the physical, mental, and emotional pain experienced didn’t matter. It hardened him. Thus harsh love was what he gave because it built strength. However, that strength is faulty. It’s a facade. At the end of the day, we just want our daddies. I just wanted my daddy. I wanted him to love me and do it because he wanted to, not because he had to.

When we do talk, we end with pleasantries and comments of how we both love each other, and I think that he believes he does. I wish it was in the way that I needed. I will never stop loving my father because he is just that, my father, and I do it because I want to.

I wish I had an answer for those that feel abandoned by fathers who decided that they, too, didn’t have to love them. Instead, I will wish your mind and heart peace this Father’s Day. Please know that we're worth it even if they didn’t show it.

D. (DeLisha) Sylvester is an author, writer, and social change agent. Follow her on IG and Twitter @bswchronicles.

Fatherless on Father's Day

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