So today is Father’s Day to some,
to others its Fathers’ Day.
Some of us had a try without knowing what we were doing,
others were nothing but a surrogate for some other person-in full or lacking capacity.
I don’t consider myself to have a father, its more like the story of Aphrodite at times:
“In the most famous version of her myth, her birth was the consequence of a castration: Cronus severed Uranus’ genitals and threw them behind him into the sea. The foam from his genitals gave rise to Aphrodite (hence her name, meaning “foam-arisen”), while the Erinyes (furies) emerged from the drops of his blood.Hesiod states that the genitals “were carried over the sea a long time, and white foam arose from the immortal flesh; with it a girl grew.” The girl, Aphrodite, floated ashore on a scallop shell.”
(Excerpt from Wikipedia.com)
There was nothing positive as my life started when I lived next door to him. Happily I have learned not to expose myself to venom, hate, and such. But sometimes it spills from me as though hemorrhaging or collaterally. The hate does make ones skin thicker and thus will ooze from pores of relationships with partners and one’s own children.
My children do not know me and its sometimes it is remiss but that’s my burden and as such there is not any regret for what I could not control.
Amanda Peet once said of child-rearing in a magazine artice: “Parenting is a lot like when the oxygen masks drop in an airplane: you cannot help anyone until you fix your own situation.” (paraphrased)