Gone Daddy Gone

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According to the 2000 Census report, 20 million kids under the age of 18 lived in single-parent households at that time. 16.5 million live with single mothers, and 3.3 million live with their fathers (of that 3.3 million, about a third live with their unmarried partners, while only a tenth of mothers live with an unmarried partner). That's about 6.7% of all children living with a single parent.

In 1970, when I stopped having two parents, about 5% of kids lived with just one parent. I didn't feel like an oddball kid, not having a dad. For a year, my mother and I lived with a group of women who were all also divorced and raising a kid alone, so I was one of many kids without a dad. But once I started going to school, I felt the difference. My mother was treated differently (it seemed to me) by my teachers. Other kids made fun of me for not having a dad.

Of course, part of that was because while there were plenty of other kids of divorce around, they saw their dads on weekends. Those dads showed up at the band concerts and the teacher conferences. But not me, and not my dad. My father simply vanished out of my life.

My childhood memories of my father are nearly non-existent. I have a very dim memory of him visiting once when I was three or four years old, and I thought he was a fireman because he had a huge (to me) red pickup truck. (This is ironic, of course, because my father later went on to become a firefighter, and then died in a house fire he caused). But other than that hazy memory, I don't remember him as a young man.

I had a lot of substitute fathers. There were a few men around my mother and I that were kind to us (not men she dated--she kept her dating habits away from me), like John Pugh, an acupuncturist married to a beautiful Mexican woman and built adobe houses for the poor. But most of my substitute dads were famous--John Lennon (who my father did bear a passing resemblance to), Jim Henson (don't ask me why--it's not like I saw him on television or anything, but I cried like a baby when he died), and other singers like Pete Seeger, and even John Denver (any man with round glasses like my dad was a substitute).

When I was in high school I read an article about the psychological impact of not having a father. Girls who lost their fathers to death tended to be grasping and clingy in relationships with men, and girls who lost their fathers by divorce often push their partners away. Although at that moment in my life I'd only been in one serious relationship (Paul, my boyfriend throughout high school), I felt a chill of recognition-- only two days before I'd dumped Paul mercilessly, then let him walk about thirty feet away before running after him and begging him to take me back.

I've talked before about having a Daddy-shaped hole in my heart, and how deeply the absence of my father has effected me. Now that my father is dead and I'm a mother, that absence has become even more intense and overwhelming. Especially now. Now that Tori is the age I was when my father left.

Maybe Tori is too attached to us--after all, she's home with both of us all day. But if Charlie leaves the house, even if it's just to take the trash out, Tori cries loudly and intensely (although it only lasts a moment). If he's gone for the afternoon, when he comes home Tori's face lights up and she shrieks with joy.

If he was gone--really gone, for good--she would know.

Earlier in my life I comforted myself when I thought of my father by saying I didn't know what I was missing--after all, I didn't remember him. But Tori would know it if Charlie left, and she would grieve his loss intensely and it would effect her for the rest of her life. How could I have imagined that I was left unscathed?

I'm trying to acknowledge and accept the feelings (which have been constant and intense) I've been having about this. The feelings have been coming out all sideways, of course: I've been rotten to Charlie lately, fighting and bullying him for no reason. I did a photographic self-portrait about it for my 52 Weeks project on Flickr, and now I'm writing about it here. But I know I'm barely scratching the surface.

Tori is lucky. There is no way that Charlie would ever leave her. It's why I married him, and why I wanted to have children with him. She will never have a daddy-shaped hole in her heart; instead, her heart will be, god willing, full of love and hope because not only does she have a daddy, she has one that loves her beyond reason.

I wish every little girl could be so lucky. The truth is, there are 20 million other kids out there that are currently running around with parent-shaped holes in their hearts. I don't know what can be done about this--you can't force someone to parent, and frankly, some people shouldn't BE parents--but it makes me sad to think about all of us with our broken hearts, trying to live in this world and be in relationships with each other.

Not to sound like a completely ridiculous and trite romantic, but I do believe that love is possible, and that love can heal. After all, after years of floundering, I managed to find it. And when I watch Charlie with Tori, a little bit of the sadness I feel about not having a father is lifted away. I doubt that I will ever be whole in that way, but I can rest easy knowing that I was lucky enough to stumble on a good man that will love my daughter (and me) for the rest of our lives.

Broken hearts can be mended, after all. Even the hearts of little fatherless girls like me.

Comments

[rae]

Such a powerful and moving post

[karenT]

So eloquently do you express your feelings.

What is also sad is to grow up with a father whom one sees every day, with whom one lives, and yet to still have a father-shaped hole in one's heart.

[jeanie]

Oh, way to send a shiver down my spine, Cecily.

I always worried that my daughter would get a father-shaped hole.

When her dad and I split, I did all I could to make sure they got contact, as they did have a great relationship.

When he developed (ha ha - publicly displayed, more like) his mental illness, I tried to make sure that they still got as much contact as possible, putting as many checks and balances in place that he would not harm her mentally or emotionally with his words or behaviours.

When he died, I did all I could to foster his memory and all the good bits of him with her - but she was very young and soon her only memories of him were those we told her.

When I met V last year, it was a huge fear for me that she would still feel the wound of "no father and some bastard in the place he should be" - but I have to give both of them full credit for working together to build their own relationship.

It is not a father-shaped repair, but a 'Salina-V compound that I hope will hold and give her support through her life - as the me-V compound I hold dear.

[AmyinMotown]

OMG this post made me cry. I had (have) a wonderful father, he's one of my favorite people to this day. And I look at my friends whose fahers couldn't be bothered with them and see what great people they are and how much those bastards are missing out, and it makes me furious. Moreso now that I have a kid of my own--their love for their parents is so simple and really undemanding in a lot of ways. How anyone could walk away from that baffles me. Even if you don't want to be with your child's mother, DO NOT take that out on your kid. Do not walk away from your responsibility, because you hurt them so much and lose out on what could be your greatest joy.

[Meg]

Oh, can't stop crying.

My dad died when I was 8. My heart will be contorted and it will hurt when my child is 8, and I see where I was again, in some way. This past year was the year I outlived my dad. That was really hard too.

We move on through it, like a tree grows around a cut through it's bark. Still living, but a changed shape. I think maybe that's okay.

You write beautifully, Cecily. Thank you.

[Sarah]

So beautifully written.

I love you, Cec.

[ladykuri]

OK I just had to explain to my 6 year old why I'm sitting here bawling. I so know what you mean about making sure the father of your child is not like your own. My father was a sleazeball...he was around until I was 12, but was never a part of my life, if that makes sense? Now seeing my hubby and his girls- dsd will be 12 soon, and she's so close to him despite the fact that he and her mother seperated when she was two...it just heals. It really does. It'll never fill that hole, but it can smooth it over.

Beautiful post, even if you did make my daughter think I'm nuts ;)

[Kayla]

That's beautiful Cec. I am sitting here talking to my Dad on IM and thanking God that I have been blessed to have a relationship with him. I also feel blessed to have a husband that I know would never walk away from our children. Little girls would give the world for their Daddies, and when Daddy walks away it just breaks my heart.

[RainbowW]

can't say i feel much for ya here hon. next time i have anything to do with my dad, i devoutly hope that it's that i get to be late to his funeral.

[Eva]

I also got flack as a kid for my absent father (he moved as far away as he could, to Alaska, when my parents divorced). I guess maybe it's different now. And though I still had a relationship with my father, it's always been fraught. I really, really treasure how close my baby and my husband are. I can't imagine a separation to our threesome. Oh no.

[Susan D.]

I have a mama-shaped hole in my heart - my mother died when I was six months old. I had lots of horrible powerful emotions from my daughter's age of about 4 to 10 months - terror that I would die unexpectedly, not for my own sake, but for fear that my daughter would grow up incomplete and flawed the way I did. It's still one of my greatest fears - that I will die before my daughter grows up, right behind my very greatest fear of something bad happening *to* her. Thanks for giving expression to your experience as a fatherless daughter; you have my best wishes for healing and happiness.

[Maura]

Oh, Cecily...so beautiful. I cried.

There have been times when I thought it would have been easier if I had no dad around -- though my dad and mom were together, my dad's drinking meant he never really *could* be there, even though he'd be physically present. The worry and stress and, of course, absolute conviction that if I was just a better daugther, just more worthy of his love, then he would stop drinking -- well, that was sheer torture and certainly splintered my heart in many ways, fractures that have not healed.

But the blessing of taking care of my dad in his last year made me change my mind. I was lucky to have a flawed, alcoholic dad rather than no dad at all, and I know he loved me as best as he could. I loved him desperately and his absence in my life now is a tangible presence.

I SO appreciate your optimism and hope regarding healing broken hearts. I see you and Charlie and Tori and I think there may be a chance that this tired, bruised heart could find love someday like you did. Maybe. Just maybe.

[Ang]

Wonderful post. Oh....dads... for me, it is a difficult topic to read about (but I loved your post). My father left us when I was 12 after years of abusing my mother and terrorizing us kids. Amazingly, I still looked up to him like he was a god, and wanted so very much to have his approval. He is still alive and I keep in touch with him sporadically because he is the only "father" I have ever known - and I still want his approval. I pretend the past did not happen and so does he. I haven't had the guts to confront him about the daddy-shaped hole in my heart but I hope I will someday. Facing infertility now, and the hope of parenthood, it's funny how these issues have resurfaced and are rearing their ugly heads with a vengeance.

Your post was beautiful and I believe the love you and Charlie share and are giving to Tori will help you heal. You have chosen and made the family that will not only fill your heart, but overflow all around you.

Ang

P.S. My vote is for Uppercase Woman.

[Shandra]

This is a beautiful piece of writing.

[Kermit]

Warm fuzzies for our shared connection: I sobbed when Jim Henson died, too.

I have a father-shaped hole in my heart for different reasons: he was physically there, but not emotionally. Now it's rare that he's there even physically (workaholic). He's missing out on his grandkids.

I'm not the greatest wife ever born (or made), but my amazing husband and I are committed to working things out as much as possible should a big problem ever arise, because neither of us wants to "leave" our great, great kids.

[Abigail]

I know. I know exactly. Having children opens your wounds and heals you at the same time.

[Jo-Ann]

Amazing piece of writing Cec.

[lauren]

I have a daddy-shapped hole in my heart...and he's still around...15 mins down the road.

Its just that I don't see him...and he's fine with that. =(

[Whitney]

Oh that was a beautiful, bittersweet post. My dad is the one person on earth I could be with 24-7 and never get tired of him. Luckily, I married a man just like him.......and I feel a huge need to go snuggle up to him :).

[Annie]

Wow, this was brilliant. I too have a mommy and daddy-shaped hole after losing them much too young, but I am lucky to have a fantastic step-dad who(m?) I get closer too each year.

[revdrmom]

I get sensitive about this topic b/c I have basically raised all four of my children without a father. Not by my choice, but that's how it worked out. Most things written about single parent homes end up at least implicitly blaming the mother for the kids' issues (not yours, Cecily). And I think my kids are all great people and reasonably well adjusted.

But I know that the oldest three at least have feelings about this. My older daughter struggles because she thinks she 'ought' to have a relationship with him, but he was so awful to her for a while that she doesn't really like him. My younger daughter married into the kind of family she always yearned for (large and close).

The Kid, now almost 16 hasn't seen his dad in 8+ years. He claims not to miss him--his dad left when he was not quite four and only ever maintained sporadic contact. I wonder how he will feel later.

Tori is lucky to have Charlie for a dad, and you're lucky to have him too.

[Elizabeth]

This was really beautiful. And moving. Your writing has been great lately.
I too have that father shaped hole in my life and I've never known what to do about it. Someone told me recently that your view of God is your view of father. Since neither exists for me - that's really given me something to think about.

[Ally]

I am experiencing something similar right now. Jamie is the age I was when my mother and I effectively disappeared, floating from house to house, my mom a drug addict who would leave me with "friends" for days. My first memory is of seeing her arrested for shoplifting. It culminated in an incident that finally prompted my grandparents and my father to take action, but it was a year before that happened.

Looking at Jamie, understand what a 3 yo needs, and finally realizing why, all these years later, this hole in my childhood still affects me, it's been hard. I'm angry. For myself, and for all the kids who don't get what they need and they deserve.

[CTG]

Lobster is now the age I was when my parents got divorced. I guess technically my mom left my dad, but really it was for the best. He and I never had much of a relationship, and growing up it sometimes bothered me, but overall many of my friends (1980s) had divorced parents, we all were in brownies together, went to school together. I also don't remember ever living with my father. And I don't know how much he was around when I was little, whether any attachment really formed. But the lack of a relationship really bothered me in 2001 when he died because there was no longer any chance of a relationship, it was over. I was in the car with my step sister going to his funeral and she said to me "he was so proud of you and you being a lawyer, he told everyone how smart you were." My only response was "everyone except me." My dad wasn't a bad guy, he never beat anyone, he never emotionally abused anyone, I'm not sure if he ever said an unkind word about anyone. But he still wasn't a good father.

Luckily with my mom and both sets of grandparents and people from church I felt very very loved and very secure. So while I didn't have a dad to guide me, I had a lot of people looking out for me and keeping me in line.

I think it's great for you and Tori for you to explore and come to a resolution about your dad, even though it may be rough along the way. You have a husband that has your back every step of the way on this and all your journeys. You have your writing and this crazy wonderful audience. You have a wonderful beautiful daughter who loves you more than all the cheerios in the world! You'll be mended for sure.

[Shara]

Thought I'd add my story to the list of dadless girls. My parents divorced when I was 5 mos old and I have only seen my dad a handful of times. My mom and I moved out of state and I didn't "meet" my dad until I was 5. My mom and I flew back to Texas and she told me that my dad would be the man in a white cowboy hat. Well, my 5 yr old self thought, if he's wearing a white hat, that must mean he's one of the good guys.

And he is. He's perfectly nice, a hard worker, a friendly neighbor, and a great husband to my stepmother (whom I truly like). I can see why my mom was married to him for 7 years and considered reconciling several times post-divorce. He just happened to choose to not be a dad to me and never has been.

He, himself, had a strained relationship with his own father, as well as a string of step fathers. My mom often used this to excuse him - trying to soften the his total absence in some way. I had always thought his own childhood would make him understand why it was so shitty to not make an effort to be a part of my life - he had had the same shitty dadless childhood, wouldn't that mean he'd try harder? But he hasn't. I've come to terms with the fact that our relationship will be akin to distant cousins - people you look like, don't really know all that well, but generally don't mind seeing every few years for coffee.

I guess because there is no history (good or bad) between us, and because I purposely waited until I had grown past the point of craving his approval or love, I've been able to get to know him on my own terms, at my own pace. I don't know that we'll ever really figure each other out, and that's OK. I don't have a dad, but there's a nice guy in Texas with the same face and hair as me who I talk to a few times a year.

PS: And I like Writ Large.