On Being a Father

As these things go, several incidents came together in the past week that gave me some moments to reflect on being a father and what that means as we head into the holidays.  All of this came together for me today while on a splendid (is there any other kind?) 7mile run in the cool Northwest air.

Last weekend, both Jeremy and Nick came up to visit me in Redmond.  We did not nearly have enough time to spend together and some of the time was consumed with being with other friends at the same time.  Nevertheless, we did have some honest father-son discussions which were so far beyond what me and my dad ever did.

Jeremy gave me a couple of books for christmas, as he always does (they have greatly expanded my author repertoire!), including “Manhood for Amateurs – The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father and Son” by Michael Chabon – which I will talk about shortly.

Additionally, my Uncle Ted wrote me about the Lewis Family site he has been updating, which goes back to my great-great grandfather and includes stories from the past five generations of Lewis’s in the US and in Lithuania (where apparently my father’s side of the family comes from).  This reminded me that I have written a couple of posts on my mom, including one of my favorites recollecting her funeral in 2004, and I have yet to write a similar one for my dad even though it is on my list of things to do in 2009.

My two sons are great and I’m really proud of them, and it’s both painful and gratifying to see how they have grown through their early years, teenagers and then young adults.   While I think our relationship has developed masssively over the past 8 months or so, we still have miles to go.  It wasn’t until I was around 26 or I think that I first told my dad that I love him, and the boys and I rarely hang up without saying the same words.  As Chabon notes in his book, it was a different time for many of our parents and that in the end, they did the best job they could.

I know several good friends whose fathers abandoned them when they were children and the lasting affect this has had on their lives is tremendous.  I was lucky otherwise to have had parents who stayed together for 39 years until my dad’s death and raised us with unconditional love, hope and ambition.  On the other hand, I have several friends who are looking after their aging parents and have the chance in their adult lives to both get closer and experience the frustration with seeing their fathers and mothers decline in health and mental competencies.

Chabon recounts funny and painful stories of his children being raised without his being there all of the time and it reminds me that while you can never have too many regrets, it’s never too late to take your relationship with your father to the next level.

My father never ran or climbed mountains, I never saw him with a book in his lap, he ate poorly and never exhibited a wordly intellect or interest in global affairs.  But he also never drank, cheated or hit us and was just around.  He was unilaterally proud of what me and my brothers accomplished, no matter how small or how big.  When I read about our families legacy and what remains after we are gone – it’s encouraging to know and to feel that both being a relatively good father and son can outlast other feats we may accomplish at work or in our private lives.