God, Fathers, and the Space Between
When Absence Becomes a Path to Grace
After reading this beautiful essay a couple of weeks ago by my friend , I found myself processing and writing to Myles about my own relationship with my father, his grandfather. A public thank you to Alex—your words have led me to visit places I thought I’d never return to. Everyone, be sure to give it a read.
“In other words, father wounds are present even when you think you’re beyond them, whether the resemblance sits like a scar within your skin, their instructions still linger within your mind, or their absence leaves a hole that can’t be filled.” - Alex Lewis
A gentle heads up: the letter below is part of my Going Deeper Letters, where I share letters to Myles about my upbringing and what it means to me to be raising a Black son. As such, much today’s post is behind a paywall. Every dollar I collect from these writings goes toward his college fund. If you would like to support me in saving for his future, please consider upgrading your subscription. Thank you to my best friend, Jack, for signing up to be a paid subscriber. I love you, brother.
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17 Months
Dear Myles,
I thought when you were born, things would change. That when I became a father, and he a grandfather, he would suddenly start calling and checking in more. I mean, he did not for me, but maybe he wanted to do better—a fresh start with you. I just knew that the first time he held you and smiled, one of those smiles that could only be drawn by one of those caricaturists in Times Square—a smile that made me wonder: did he ever smile at me when I was this young? A smile that held wonder, optimism, joy, and the possibility for molars.
A couple of weeks ago, I called him—it was the first time we had spoken in months. Before that, he would ask me for pictures of you, said he missed you, said he wanted to see you. And like the good son I always was, I sent them—pictures and videos of you laughing, smiling, walking, and playing. I decided pictures just would not be enough; I would call. When I finally did, it was on WhatsApp, and the camera was facing you so he could see that smile he was missing out on. As soon as he answered, and when both of you locked eyes, I wished I could have done more than just take a screenshot—I wished I could have frozen time, at least just for a moment. Because he flashed those teeth like a cartoon character, his eyebrows rose an inch or two up his face, and for a second, I could have sworn his voice wanted to crack when he said, “Gade gwo mèsye” (Look how big he’s gotten).
But there is something about anger that makes you want to harden your heart.