One of the worst pieces of advice that someone could give a child who is going through something with their parent is, “That’s still your mama” or “That’s still your daddy.” As I’ve come into adulthood, I’ve found through my personal relationships that a lot of people opt to carry emotional baggage inflicted by their parents because they are bound to honor them, usually through religious teachings, even if it means that they incur hurt themselves.

That’s still your daddy.

I could never accept that advice.

I remember when I was in high school, my dad was in what has been one of his many battles against cancer. In the middle of the night, a blunt crash coming from my parents’ room startled me out of my sleep. My dad started wailing. I assumed some ailment related symptom caused this. I was also certain that he’d brought the pain upon himself through what I deemed to be his horrible way of being. With that conscience, I was able to easily roll over and go back to sleep as not just anyone, but my dad, screamed in writhing pain just a few feet away from me. I had school in a few hours. Plus, my mother was in there. He’d be fine. She always made sure that he was fine.

How does a child develop such a disdain for their parent?

My earliest cognizant memories of my dad were of him and my mother being very on again, off again all the time. Through my childlike lens, I only saw that in the good times, my mother’s focus was on him, and in the bad times, he was everything but a child of God. I took that shame on. I was ashamed to be a part of this oft described, “no good daddy” of mine. To further complicate that, he was my biological father and not my 2 brothers’, so when things went wrong, I always felt extra resentful because I came from this man. I came from this awful man, and I didn’t want to be awful.

Some people miss the boat in knowing how to deal in intimate relationships, but they typically find a way to nurture a positive relationship with their kids. That was not the case for us. When I was 5, he was gone again. He stopped by one day. I guess he was ready to come back. He’d brought some puzzles and other toys for me (Not sure what he gave to my siblings. I can’t speak to that.) He’s a fisherman- a great fisherman. In all of the small talk and soon-to-be broken promises he was spewing that day, he said to me, “When you turn 6, I’m gonna take you fishing.” I was excited. I’m not sure how much I expressively conveyed that, but I had an expectation.

I am 26. I have never been fishing a day in my life, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember that day.

I remember when I was in early elementary school, I returned from spending the weekend at my great grandma’s. My dad had just come back, again, and he’d gone to church with us a time or two. We had revival that week, and they went. My brother told me almost as soon as I walked in that my dad had gotten saved at church last night. Quick church lesson for those that was lost upon– getting saved means that one essentially repents of ones sins and commits to being a modern disciple of Christ. I said, “Oh, that won’t last.”

It lasted. In as much as we dressed up. We went to church. We sat together. We soothed public perception. We went home, and we lived like a broken clock. Things were only right about twice a day, but that’s not just us, and that’s why I find no shame in the truth. That’s the way things are on the whole. Many people value appearances.

A couple of weeks ago, I graduated with my masters, as those of you who read my previous blog already know. That was followed by about 2 weeks of celebration, including one that took place in my hometown. I had prepared myself for people who would give remarks and lie. Such is the nature of allowing public comment. However, I was a bit taken aback when my dad spoke.

He told the crowd how he was proud of my sister (she graduated, too) and myself. He went on to say that he did some things in the way of parenting that he regretted but in spite of himself, his children managed to make it.

Things have been better, not perfect, but better for us in the last year or two, but when things have unraveled publicly, a part of the fix is acknowledging it to the public. Though it may have seemed small to those assembled, it meant a lot to me.

I had spent years trying to get past the insecurities that I faced as a man because I didn’t know how to change a tire, fix things in the house or one day teach my kids the ins and outs of every sport. These things weren’t taught to me. Eventually, I got past that.

I had spent years trying to reconcile my identity to a paternal family that I knew nothing about. Eventually, I got past that.

I had spent years teaching myself not to take anything my dad said seriously because anything was subject to go another way or fall through. Eventually, I got past that.

There’s but one thing I couldn’t do alone. I couldn’t validate my story, so it made all of my insecurities feel like my responsibility. It didn’t matter who believed that I was justified in feeling the way I felt, it was impossible for me to try to resolve and move forward if my dad would not acknowledge that I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t just a bad person. There were some things that didn’t go right. I could not get past that.

So where are we now? I’m not sure if I may be honest. We’re not Ward and Beaver Cleaver or Cliff and Theo Huxtable. We are just Calvin and Joshua, and that’s enough for me. Real life doesn’t work out like tv shows. To quote Jane Fonda, “It took me a long, long, time to realize that we were not meant to be perfect. We were meant to be whole.” I hope the mentality of making things LOOK good is universally dismantled. We should be more concerned with making things BE good.

“It took me a long, long, time to realize that we were not meant to be perfect. We were meant to be whole.”

To bring up my initial point, stop making people feel like they’re obligated to relationships that hurt them. Instead, encourage them to fix things, and if they find that their parent is not willing to embrace their truth, pray that they have the strength to be okay without the wholeness of that relationship. Believe it or not, Mother’s Day and/or Father’s Day are not happy days for everyone. Let’s stop using the bible to patch stuff up and put a muzzle on people. People need to be healed, not patched.

And you may feel that this was too much to share. If you find yourself in that head space, I’m willing to bet that something is dying on the inside of you. As it relates to this matter, I am good. We are good, and I know that the people who are supposed to get this in a personal way, will.

Happy Father’s Day to every father, especially my own.

I’m learning to count my blessings and not my problems. Today, I am blessed that though we are not whole, we are healing.

Thanks sir, it was your truth that set me free.