Who’s Your Daddy

I enjoyed reading all the Father’s Day messages posted on Facebook over the past several days.  Some still had their dads, while others remembered them in a heavenly tribute.  It gave me pause to think about families and the importance of a healthy home environment.

A dad doesn’t have to be biological to provide guidance and nurturing.  Stepfathers take on these roles, sometimes an older brother and many moms have had to serve as both parents.  What is essential is that there is love within the home and a place where a child can learn and grow without fear or pain.

I was a product of an absentee dad but not an absentee daddy.  My grandparents raised me.  My grandfather was not a disciplinarian.  He never raised his voice, but as a kid, I knew that when he said don’t do something, you didn’t do it.  It was called respect.

He was a selfless provider.  Life wasn’t about him but about taking care of his responsibilities, including my grandmother, me, and my sister.  He didn’t complain or call in sick.  First, we didn’t have a phone, and second, as a farmer, he was his boss, so there wasn’t anyone to call.  You just got up every day and kept on going.

He didn’t have to prove his love by buying me toys or expensive clothes.  He proved his love daily by putting food on the table and providing me with a solid upbringing which was the foundation I continued to build upon for who I am today.

When I was 50, I discovered that the man listed on my birth certificate was not my dad.  He told me himself.   At first, I thought it was his way to reconcile, not having done for me over the years the same as he had for my sister.  For me, there were never any birthday or Christmas cards or acknowledgment of my two sons as grandchildren. 

However, several years later, he passed away, and I was able to find his obituary online.  Well, guess who wasn’t listed in the obituary as a family member – you guessed it, me.  It was then that I believed what he had said.  His telling me was a confession, not a reconciliation.  He was selfish, not selfless.  It was very selfish not to tell me until after my mom passed away, and I had no one to ask.  He may have allowed me to use his last name but nothing else.  

There was a time when knowing my roots was unimportant, but lately, I’ve begun to wonder where the other part of my DNA stems from.  Am I a distant relative of a famous artist because I love to paint, or maybe I have some Hemingway blood because I love to write and always seem to have an abundance of cats?   Sometimes, families don’t want to be found, so I must consider that if I decide to start a search.  Right now, it’s only a curiosity, not a need.

I grew up to be selfless and responsible because I had a healthy, loving home environment.  As a dad, my grandfather filled all the gaps, but I never felt any needed filling.  He was all I knew or wanted to know. The person with the holes is that Dad out there somewhere who never got to know me and the person who passed himself off as a dad and chose not to know me.  

On Father’s Day, I celebrate the man who was the best of all because I am beyond blessed to have had him.  Having had him as a GRANDdaddy and Daddy was a double blessing.

Thank you, Carlos W. Spurlock.  I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

(19 Oct 1900 – 15 July 1985). ❤️