With all of my recent successes, I suppose I was due a day of melancholy. Fathers Day. It snuck up on me like a ninja in the darkness of a moonless night. It uttered not a sound, it made not a single misstep. Until I looked at my google calendar and there it was. I’ve been working nightshift for quite a while now; so my days and weeks seemingly blur together at times. So I suppose that is how I let it sneak up on me, unless there was a subconscious sense of dread. My vote is for the subconscious sense of dread. And now I sit here before laying down for the day feeling melancholy, feeling disillusioned, and wondering what the answer to all of this is?
With me now moving towards transition, it raises rather uncomfortable questions; what if anything will my children call me? How will Miss Jennifers children eventually refer to me? I know that biologically I sired my children, of that there will never be any doubt. But more and more I do not connect with the gendercentric term of father. I dare not say I feel motherly; I suppose I reserve that term for a mother who actually gave birth to a child. I cannot lay claim or usurp that title simply on a whim or change of my gender preference. I wouldnt pretend to anyhow.
But this disillusionment I now have with Fathers Day leaves me wondering whats next, what will I be? Can’t we just have a parents day? Will my children look at all future fathers dayd wistfully, will they be just as melancholy as I am now, will they resent me and my efforts to live happily? Will I somehow taint fathers day in their eyes, and take away their enjoyment when they too are fathers?
I’ve no answers in this. It is something I’ve wrestled with all night really, and still nothing appears to lead me any closer to what the answer or answers may be. Unless… unless we fall back to the old standby of; life is what you make of it. I could sit here and feel melancholy about an artificial holiday, or a gendercentric title, or I can take refuge in the fact I truly Love and look out for my children, that I have done the best I could parenting them, making parental choices, protecting them, and trying to teach them to be men of strong character. I have sacrificed for them. I’ve remained at jobs I had no love or joy for. I have sacrificed financially. And most of all, I have remained a gender I could not stand to live as much longer to insure their life was as smooth as possible.
I know what I’ve done, I know what I’ve felt, I know what I’ve sacrificed and given up, to have the title of parent. I’ve bled my own blood, and had theirs on me. At the end of my life, I was a parent first and foremost.
Ever & Always,