The Father Wounds

My sisters were responsible for my care and development. 
When I was younger everything seemed ok, but let’s be honest, I don’t really know how things should be. I want to play and have fun, but there is no one, really for me to play with. Moms too busy, she’s taking care of the house during the day. Making sure clothes are clean and food is cooked, before going to work her night shifts.

Dad is a fleeting glance in the evenings. He returns home from work and doesn’t really talk to anyone. Even I have recognised his evening ritual, Bath, get dressed and out.
Sometimes I’ll see him at the weekends. Sometimes he returns home from work and takes over the TV. Watching the Cricket, through his eyelids. God forbid you should think you can change channels. He ruled with a rod of iron and a thick belt of leather. Love wasn’t shown, but discipline was enforced. “Those who don’t hear must feel” 
I just feel lost and alone most of the time. No idea who I am or should be.

Tolerated but not really accepted. I quickly learned that If I offered entertainment people would smile and accept me. So that became my dream and focus, entertain and demonstrate my worth. Danny Kaye, Norman Wisdom, Bob Hope and Jerry Lewis became my heroes and role models. These ideals that appear on the TV and in films were my idea of how the world was. It was just different in our house.

Being a male in a house that was predominantly female, I looked towards my father to teach me the ways of manliness. The problem is that he was rarely home and when he was he was ‘too busy’.

My sisters had my mother to learn from and all I had were images and characters on the TV. What I remember the most was that my sisters disliked my father, and as his progeny, for some, I became the recipient of the dislike. Berated, criticised and told “Don’t grow up like your father”

It has been almost six decades since I was abandoned in the world, by my father. We no longer speak as I grew tired of waiting and searching for him to step forward and be the man I needed, to teach me how to be a man. All the time failing, myself, to recognise the man I had become.
I spent a long time wanting and waiting for my father. I realise I was still judging him as the child I once was, looking for the things I needed.

Now I have my own child, who I have guided and ensured they know they are loved. 
I judge my father as a man now, and realise he could not teach what he did not know.