I have been thinking a lot about fatherhood lately. Having put in quite a few years as a dad with three beautiful children one would think that by now, I would be an expert on the subject. Sadly, such is not the case. I find myself still questioning why I am not the “perfect” father I dreamed I would be when I first began my marriage. And, having been brought up by a Catholic father, I wonder too what exactly I have been able to pass on to my own children about what it means to be a dad.
About twenty years ago, my father died. We did not have the perfect father-son relationship, though we both tried as best we could. For most of my childhood my father lived away from us because of his job. When he was able to come home on the weekends, he was tired and distant. This was difficult for a young boy who longed for a deeper relationship with the man who meant the most to him. I remember evenings sitting on the floor at his feet as he watched television and had a drink or two. I was desperate for any sort of meaningful conversation. My father was an intellectual giant and so I brought up the deepest subjects my young mind could consider. Many of our talks were about our Catholic faith. My father had studied under the Jesuits and was able to speak with authority on many topics, but much of what he said was above my understanding and level of spiritual maturity. Still I wanted to please my father and so I tried to learn all I could. In some ways, my desire to understand my father’s teachings and win his love had a lot to do with my decision to pursue a degree in Theology. While this had some good results, there were still many struggles that came out of that time.