New path

In the realm of fatherhood, the echoes of my childhood resonate into my rearing of two boys, unveiling a narrative of tumultuous experiences, deep scars, and an unwavering commitment to rear my children different from how I was taught.

My own father, a complex figure shaped by his own demons, yearned for understanding amidst a sea of struggles. He sought solace in alcohol, an attempt to ward off the haunted memories, tough choices and constant struggle that plagued his existence. His demons, however, possessed him to such an extent that he attempted killing his offspring to spare them from the pain he perceived in this life.

Yet, beneath this troubled exterior lay a man of diligence, a soldier, a fighter, an alcoholic who still managed to function and a victim of the insidious grasp of cancer. He was a father to seven children and in his eyes, a husband to a beautiful blond. But these surface elements only hint at the complex depths of his existence and his own life struggles.

Yet, it is difficult for me to cast aside the memories of harsh words and the physical blows inflicted upon me to see the multi layered human being. As humans, we are wired with a negativity bias, and so the image of a father joyfully playing with his children, wielding a water hose in fun to cool off from the summer sun, is overshadowed by fits of alcohol-fueled abuse, provoked by minor infractions like a misplaced shovel resulting in the wielding of a whip. In truth, my father inherited his own demons from a father who was deeply in the grip of evil thoughts and ways. My father carried fewer demons than his own father yet found himself unable to vanquish them.

His words, branding his children as worthless, only fueled my determination make sure others never saw me as that. The memory of being lashed with a bullwhip for a transgression I did not commit serves as a perpetual reminder to stand up against injustice, to champion the cause of those who face the brunt of society's inequities. I see my father's footsteps and I trace a path far from it, seeking alternative routes, unburdened by the weight of his afflictions.

While he aspired to raise stoic, tough, and somewhat uncaring individuals; unyielding to the blows of life, I aspire to foster children who embrace empathy wholeheartedly, who bask in the warmth of unconditional love. I yearn for them to believe in the intrinsic goodness that outweighs the darkness in this world and to cherish moments spent with family, memories steeped in smiles and unbridled joy. Though I bear my own demons, I aim to shield my children from witnessing these, fully aware that life, with its myriad challenges, will undoubtedly throw many of their own obstacles in the way.

I am a man who longs for his children and wife to comprehend him, yet I find solace in allowing them to weave their own view, hoping that their portrayal surpasses the flaws I perceive within myself. Too often, I glimpse a reflection of the child within me, grappling with the notion that I am not inherently worthless. It is in this reflection that I aim to transcend the limitations of my own upbringing, to mold a version of fatherhood that is grounded in empathy, compassion, and unwavering support of my children.

The blessing of fatherhood unravels the scars of the past by aiming to forge a brighter future for my children and they for their children. Their narrative of fatherhood should be one of good deep prints to follow in or even to make better.