The Absent Father

Being from a single parent family was never a claim I made.  However, my knowledge from a very young age was that my father had died at 57 from a medical emergency that is immediately addressed today and known as a “strangulated hernia”.   Many were the times I would ask Mom why Dad died and always it was this same answer. 

Dad and me.

Writing now about Father’s Day still stirs loss even with his longstanding absence.  Yes, there are several memories I treasure.  Children appear to handle trauma well, but do we really?   All of us come to know suffering, loss and separation at the beginning of life and learn that nothing in life is permanent but hope to the contrary, that it was.  We know many separations along our journey.  Yet, there is a more current view that tells us separation is an illusion and that “we are all “One”.  I find the idea of “oneness” comforting and resonate more with belief that dad and I are now connected, both in body and spirit. 

Integrating the experience of death into my 4 yr. old self, did not always come easy as I keenly remember Dad was my idol, my love, my hero.  I hated saying he was dead because a following conversation then seemed flat, there was nothing more to say.  As an example, I was walking home from school one day with another 6 yr. old girl, when she soon asked me, “What does your father do?”  I said I did not have a father, that he was dead.  Immediately I did not like the sound and feeling of those words, so I said, “no that’s not right.  That man who died was not my father. My oldest brother is really my father, but we don’t want the neighbours to know”.  I knew I was lying and feared my mother might hear this tale I had told, so quickly added, “we don’t want the neighbors to know”, meaning do not repeat this. 

Imagination is a creative way to bring joy, let the spirit fly, fantasize. It is also a way to buffer painful life issues for children, adults, all of us, to create a more acceptable story.  While thoughts/memories even on this Father’s Day are thin for me, they are more treasured with added years. 

Most precious for me are the memories shared about dad, with my mother, when I was very young.  In those moments when no one else was around, she would take from her bottom bedroom dresser drawer, a big white box.  It contained a white shirt with lots of tiny pleats.  Then she would say, “this was your dad’s wedding shirt”.  Pausing a while, then she would tenderly lift something else, colourful long, and narrow, and say “these were your dad’s ties”.  Those occasional experiences with her helped fill a gap which words lacked.     

How can we each make this year Father’s Day a special time to remember Dad, whether he be living or deceased?  What about remembering those who have served us as substitutes, (especially mothers) for an absent father.  To these substitutes in my life I owe deep gratitude, especially my Mom and oldest brother Francis, who now enjoys eternal rest with my absent, yet ever-present father. 

Sister Patricia St Louis, csj 

When father doesn’t know best

I’m a father. My children are 12 and 9.

I don’t know what it’s like to have my kids taken from me.

I don't know what it’s like to have them removed from our home and sent to a place where they were forbidden to speak their language or practice their culture. A place where they normalized nightmarish emotional and physical abuse, bullying, deprivation, and death.

I don’t know what it’s like to be abandoned and betrayed by the government.

And I don’t know or understand the true history of our country.

What I now know is that for more than a century, 150,000 First Nations, Métis, and Inuit kids were subjected to residential schools where the prime directive was assimilation.

I now know that we have a responsibility to seek out, understand and acknowledge the truth. And that everyone in Canada can contribute to reconciliation.

And I know that on this Father’s Day (and every day), it’s not good enough to teach our kids what our fathers taught us.

It’s far more important we teach them the things they didn’t.

Please read.

Please listen.

Please give.

-Jeff Sage is a resident of London, Ontario.

Father's Day

Father’s Day

Father’s Day is such a mix of emotions for me.  

On the one hand, I think of my own dad who passed away four years ago this summer.  My dad loved me so much.  He consistently let me know every chance he had. I most definitely loved him back, although I wasn’t so outward showing about it at times.  

My dad was a very kind soul, who had an infectious personality that could make anyone laugh out loud.  I miss all the little things he did for me growing up.  Cooking my favorite meals, driving me to friend’s houses, always encouraging me to do my best, wrestling with me on the living room floor, amongst so many other things.

I really wish my dad was here with us now to meet his grandchildren.  He would have instantly fallen in love with them, and they would reciprocate that love.  I have no doubt about that.  

In some weird way, perhaps they may have already met.  Perhaps it was in Heaven.  Perhaps, my dad had something to do with the tiny miracles my wife and I had after a specialist told us to give up hope.  

I am a dad now.  Two times in fact!  We have a beautiful, energetic 2.5-year-old girl and an adorable 1-year-old boy who’s got quite the appetite - and dance moves!  

Believe me……It’s a lot of work.  Exhausting at times.  Two babies that are 19 months apart can wear anyone out.  Some days it feels like it is never-ending, especially in this COVID era, but then there are days where you wish the time with them never ever ends.  The joy, laughter, and fun make every hard day manageable.

My kids have taught me so much.  I’ve learned how to multitask in the non-digital form, how to make countless ponytails, the importance of nap times, and Advil...amongst many other things. 

It’s through my own kids that I experience the love, spirit, and bond that my dad and I had.  

Happy Father’s Day Dad!  I miss you.

-Mike Noronha, Guest Contributor