Personal Reflections On Father's Day

My dad, Jack Strong, with John Jr. and myself, summer 1954

My son, Brian, now a loving new father to his beautiful son Oliver

Frederick Smith Strong III (my uncle), Jr. (my grandfather), and Senior

Ron and our lovely step-daughter, Allison

Ron & Mounir Ghobrial (Marita's father), now fathers & grandfathers!

Jim proudly stands with our son, Brian, and his beautiful bride, Marita

Jim & our three sons, 1990

For My Dad, For All Fathers, & For Ourselves

Today I found myself reflecting on my dad, on my oldest son who is now a new father, on the ancestors who came before us, on my husband, on my former husband and father of our three sons, and more. And I have so many emotions, thoughts, memories. Today I am filled, most of all, with a deep sense of love. There is so much that I hold in my heart with understanding, compassion, tenderness, gratitude and love. This was not always the case.

Through the generations children are born, many become fathers, and many have sons who go on to be fathers. What it means to be a father, to be a child, to be born into a particular family, ethnicity, class, race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, culture and time has a deep impact on fathers and their children. I know this is obvious, but do we truly open our hearts and minds to explore what this means - what this means for us? There are the positive memories, the blessings and love, and there is also this other side, one in which generational harm can weave its invisible web through our hearts, our lives, and the children we parent, and their children, and on and on. Unless we look more deeply.

Father's Day Cards, remembrances shared, celebrations and gatherings in American culture usually illuminate the positive side and the many gifts of fathering and the fathers who parented us. We thank and honor and bless our dads, holding them with respect, gratitude, love. As is good and right. Often, however, the other side of fathering and the fuller experience of what it meant to be the child of our fathers goes unspoken and remains in the shadows.

For many years I idolized my dad, and especially after he died suddenly in 1975 at age 60. I look back today at my younger self, and to the beautiful human being who was my dad, and I am filled with love. There has also been a great deal to mourn over many years - to be angry about, to grieve, to come to terms with, to accept, to transform into blessing. And through this process my understanding of my father and of the true gifts of my dad have become clear. 

Today I do not have to idolize my dad. Nor do I need to be stuck in the sorrows and the enormity of the losses. Today I get to see my dad in all his complexities - all his amazing strengths and sweetness and also his wounds - and simply love him. Love him with all my heart.

My son, Brian, gave me this quote several years ago by Oliver Wendell Holmes, and I have treasured its profound wisdom ever since: "I would not give a fig for the simplicity this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity." 

When I was much younger, and on the other unconscious side of complexity, there was only the simplicity of black and whites and of skimming the surfaces of life. My dad was amazing, smart, handsome, and big-hearted. End of story, thank you very much. 

Then I embarked on the journey of waking up - of making conscious what was hidden and long abandoned by me in my heart, mind, spirit, and soul. Things got real complex as I began to peel back the layers of my wounding, my illusions and distortions, my long held unconscious beliefs and stories, and the truth of the walls I had built around my heart. And why. It wasn't until I was rooted into this path of discovery, of "breaking the cycle," of making the unconscious conscious, that I began to see and understand, for instance, why I kept spinning my wheels and looking for love in all the wrong places. 

As time passed, and as I went deeper into the hurt, healing, wholeness and wisdom of my heart, the complexities - of new insights, of raw emotions, of great losses, of shame and fear and separation - began to shift and evolve and a new simplicity arose. A simplicity imbued with tenderness, connection, beauty, joy, love, kindness, humor, and a growing openness to embracing myself and life as it is rather than as I had believed it should be. 

Today, I can see my dad. I can really see him. And I can see how my father lives on as part of who I am, as part of the wholeness of my being. With this understanding, I am able to much more mindfully choose what it is that I hold as helpful and wise in my heart and the way I live my life, and what is not. And I can give thanks for both. I am able to receive with compassion and gratitude the gifts of my dad, in all their sweet tenderness and amazing strengths. And I am able to see the truth of the shadow side of what my dad unconsciously passed on to me, causing me harm, although he never, ever meant to. This is not about blame or fault. This is, again, about receiving the gifts of our fathers. It is then that we are more likely to be mindful of the legacy passed to us and allow all its lessons to bless us and the generations which follow.

I am more conscious today of choosing each day, as best as I can, to live with tenderness. This is a gift from my dad. So is learning how to open to love, which my dad struggled with. Yet, in doing the heart-work that I have needed to heal and awaken, the experiences that my father, and later I, struggled with have offered their sweet and treasured lessons. I no longer am blindly compelled to look for love in all the wrong places or to blindly perpetuate what has been handed down through the generations. I understand today that sometimes our dads teach us which way to go, and sometimes they come to teach us which way not to go. Most often, I believe, it is some combination. When embraced, there are gems hidden in all, very much including the dark corners that may have been shielded from our sight for many years.

May we all claim those gifts - the gifts of our fathers and beyond - more and more with each passing year. It is such a huge choice, to truly decide and open to receive the gifts of our fathers... or not. We can stay attached to everything was rosy or to everything sucked and is to be resented, which is just the flip side to the rosy story. And then there is the real story. And that is also the one we can choose. It lives on in our hearts. May we open to the depths of its blessings now. And truly know what we have to thank our fathers for. What a gift to give to our fathers - and to ourselves and generations that follow - that their lives in some way supported and blessed our awakening.

And I thank my dad with all my heart. He lives on in my heart forevermore.

Bless all fathers everywhere. Bless us all.

Molly

At the gravesides of my father and brother, Pine Lake Cemetery, Michigan