When Love Skips a Generation

When we were kids we used to argue over whose dad could beat up whose. It was more a commentary on our stubbornness than on the actual strength of our fathers. Especially when it came to the apparent superhuman qualities they developed during the argument.

“Your dad can’t beat anyone up. He came home beat up last week.” was my mom’s response when I looked to her to back me up. The other kids broke into laughter.

Sometimes being a great dad seems to skip a generation.

The most tender moment I’ve had with my father was when he tried to explain to me his relationship with his father. I was 14. He had been drinking, of course. I was sitting alone at the computer in our living room. This was around the time Stephen Harper issued a formal apology to Indigenous peoples in Canada for residential schools. It was a raw time for us.

He cried. After 14 years of being terrified of my father, pity was too big a change for me. I stayed silent or responded in short awkward chuckles until he sensed my discomfort and left me alone. It was too much for me to process at the time but it’s the closest thing I’ve had to an apology from him and it’s stayed with me my entire adult life.

Even as an adult it’s a lot to process. But it’s where my mind wanders when I see him with my kids today.

He celebrated 3 years sober just a few days ago. He made it clear to everyone in the family his main motivations revolved around my children. My eldest, who was 11 at the time he quit, explained to him what it was like growing up in fear of him when he was drinking. My youngest was 1 at the time and I think he saw the fear beginning to grow in her too. So he gave it up. He had been a drinker since his teen years. Over 30 years an alcoholic, and just like that, all my child had to do was ask and he gave it up.

Now that’s love. That’s the love I craved when I was his daughter.

How do you respond to that? I am so happy for him. I’m so touched by his love for his grandchildren. I can’t blame him, I did it for them too. They have been truly the greatest blessings to our family, but that blessing started with me, didn’t it?

I sometimes wonder if I should have hugged him that night when he was crying in the living room. Then my mind slips forward in time to when I screamed at him, how much I hated him, at the top of my lungs, for being a terrible father. I was 19 at the time, my eldest was born not too long before that. I made it my mission to give my kids a better life than the one I had and vowed to be a better parent.

Fast forward 14 years to last week, the first time I heard him call my eldest by his preferred name. Every sweet tender moment between my dad and my children comes with a small twist of pain in my heart.

I was 14 when I decided to give up on being my real, genderless, self. By that age I had been shouted at by strangers, teased by classmates, and shot at with a bebe gun for being too different. It was the age I started to look for love in places other than my home. I just wanted to be loved. How I needed a parent who loved me for being me then. 14 years and worn out by life, I caved and began dressing like a girl, looking for a boyfriend.

Would he have ever called me by my preferred name? I don’t know, but I am so grateful he has started calling my children by theirs.

I don’t think I’m bitter about it, but there is a sense of loss inherent in the experience of growing up with an emotionally unavailable parent. I resent him at times, but I know it's the grief talking and gratitude for where he is today is always where I end up. How could it be anywhere else?

My mind slips back to when I was 14 and my dad told me about how his dad hurt him. My dad made it his mission to never beat me, and he didn’t. My childhood left a lot to be desired, especially when it came to common childhood experiences like arguing over whose dad could beat up whose. But when I get past my hurt and see the love he gives my children, the love I so dearly wish was mine, I’m able to recognize it. The blessing truly started with him, and for that I am grateful.