Father’s (Bosses) Day

I hope that the gratitude I have for the blessings in my life has been evident throughout my posts, but to make sure; just like I wrote Post 14 in honor of my mom for Mother’s Day, this week’s entry goes out to Dad for Father’s Day! It’s funny how some of the sayings you scoff at in your younger years, ring oh so true as the years go by. One such thing that I heard people say a lot was that, “the older I get, the smarter my Dad gets.” Of course, this saying may or may not be literally true for all, but in my case I can certainly say that the greater my visibility into all the things on his plate has gotten, the greater my appreciation for the amazing Dad I have is.

I’m always hesitant to use the phrase self-centered to describe myself with a worry that it will cause a discounting of whatever it is that I next mention as the ramblings of a selfish guy, but here goes. Like most kids, at least that I’ve witnessed and what I learned in my foray into child-cognitive development that I studied at one of those fine institutions that I did a stint at, I remember growing up having a view of things pretty much from my singular perspective. Despite this, it was obvious even to me that Dad had a lot of irons in the fire, or in his case dog bones in the oven! It seems like whatever sport or activity either of us kids were involved in, my father was seemingly always involved either as a coach, volunteer, or spectator.

I remember on most occasions getting a ride to the event from a friend or my mother to have Coach Dad meet me be at the field/rink/tournament directly from the office, or sometimes, even right from the airport after returning from a business trip. His commitment to each of his children and ability to make time for each of us is something that amazes me even more about my father as time goes by.

As Maslow’s hierarchy of needs reminds us, without the basic needs of life being met, human beings can’t shift our focus to fulfilling our “higher” need of self-actualization. And while I shutter to consider myself at the top of Maslow’s need’s Pyramid, my gratitude for the safety, security, and other basic needs that have never been concerns for me as a result of Dad’s hard work is profound. There are two distinct memories I have that really exemplify the kind of a father I’ve experienced my dad as being:

I remember in early my early childhood that my dad spent quite a bit of time on the road, particularly on the West Coast. Interestingly, despite all this travel, I don’t have any stinging memories of times when he missed a big occasion in my life. I do remember one particular birthday that my dad was in CA. I woke up early with excitement at being “another year older” (my how things have changed!), but having the thought that it felt weird not having Dad there… Suddenly, as if teleported across the country, I heard my Mom yell, “Jim, someone’s here.” My dad had flown home, I’m guessing on the Red Eye as it was early, to make it home for my birthday!

Another instance that really left an impression is more recent and not really one of the “celebratory” type. It was a few years after my acquiring a TBI and it was almost like the permanence and reality of living with a disability hit me all at once. Despite the progress I had made, suddenly I felt like giving up, that the effort wasn’t paying off. I must have dropped off his radar with a fatherly premonition that I was struggling reaching Dad, because before I knew it, he was knocking on my door in Portsmouth. While I don’t have an exact recollection of our discussion, the gist of it was my communicating that I was exhausted and didn’t want to keep up with the seemingly endless process of rehabilitation. I remember starting to go down the familiar rabbit hole of self-loathing for “what I had done to myself” and “that it was all my fault.”

Tremendous embarrassment that I was struggling despite the phenomenal gains I had made and support I was receiving compounded the difficulty of rehabilitation. This shame and guilt about struggling was worse than the actual situation because I hated to think of myself as being filled with self-pity. When, after communicating these feelings to my dad he let me know it was ok to be frustrated, the  validation I felt was powerful. I had always been reminded to “never feel sorry for myself”, but was confusing self-pity with self-compassion. Without saying more than, “I know” and “I’m proud of how hard you’re working”, just by listening and showing up, my Dad truly gave me a sense of hope and the knowledge that I was never alone.

So on this Monday morning after Father’s Day, to all the father’s out there who always show up for their children, Happy Father’s Day! And Dad, thank you for everything, even all the things I haven’t even realized yet: I love you very much!