Today I posted a prompter on my Facebook page that I would post an essay from one of you guys on Father’s Day and what it brings up for you. The following post is by Jaime Shearer, whom I have never met in person. Thanks Jaime! So much of this resonated with me. I will share some of the others on my Facebook page as they were all so moving.
Post all your comments below so she can read and respond.
Father by Jaime Shearer.
Even though I haven’t seen him with my physical eyes in over 33 years, I feel him with the eyes of my heart. If I could manifest one person from the spirit world and bring him to the physical, it would be my dad. Seems like he was a rad dude. Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there… And for the girls and boys who grew up without their fathers, know that you are deeply loved by the Father of The Universe. <3 – Today’s Facebook Post (June 16, 2013)
Last night I watched my friend’s 3-year old have a complete melt down because he was leaving the house. This little girl was acting as if her father’s departure for a few hours was the end of the world. And then it clicked… No wonder I always lost my mind when I went through a breakup. No wonder I felt like my whole life was ending when a significant man departed from my presence. No wonder I had such a hard time letting myself get emotionally involved with men, whether it be friendship or romance. It all made sense when I saw that precious little girl freak out.
I was 3 ½ when my dad died (lung cancer that spread to his liver). I don’t have kids of my own, and I am not often around them, so I don’t know much about them. I had long ago disconnected from my inner child as a mechanism to protect my heart. Losing my dad must have been so incredibly painful that I blocked it out, stuffed it down, and kept it hidden from myself in order to survive. I am certain that if I’d been able to deal with the loss sooner, I would have. I’m also certain that my addiction was a coping mechanism to help me stay alive while not facing my pain. To have faced this grief then would have most certainly taken me to worse places than crying on my sofa and typing through tears on the computer.
I dismissed the impact of my father’s death on my heart. I still don’t understand why it happened and why he had to go. At this moment, on the inside, I’m pleading with a ghost not to leave and asking him why he went. The bottom line is, I don’t KNOW why. I could make up a fancy, meaningful story that might placate my sadness for 15 minutes, but I still don’t understand why this is the life path I am on. It has certainly set me on a healing journey, but wouldn’t I have been equally amazing, if not more, had my dad been around?
And what about all the things I haven’t gotten to do with a dad around – my first date, the prom, graduation, relationships, financial drama, career issues, marriage, babies, the whole lot? My dad won’t ever walk me down the aisle. I won’t know what it’s like to dance with him for my first dance as someone’s wife. I’ll never get to show him my medallions for my years of sobriety. I won’t get to see the look in his eyes that says, “You’re my princess. I adore you. I’m so proud of you.” I’ll never hear his voice again. I’ll never know what it’s like to have him hold me when I’m happy or when I’m sad. He won’t ever come over and fix my water heater. He won’t help me deal with my mom’s “ways.” He won’t ever defend or protect me again.
I get that he’s still out there in the spiritual realm. But I’m talking about the dense version of living—the human one. And let’s face it, I’m still spirit in human form. So I’m feeling this stuff pretty human-like.
I didn’t know what I was missing all these years that I was growing up because I closed my heart to the sight and experience of dads with their daughters. It wasn’t until I dated a single father that I started to see all of the things I’d missed as a little girl and into my adult years. Even now, I feel the loss of my father like it was yesterday. I don’t want to admit that—it’s been 33 years! But when I stop to consider all of the ways I wasn’t parented/loved, the sadness flows through me.
I know the sadness is healing, though, because with it comes gratitude and trust. I trust that the Universe works perfectly to support me. Because of my own journey, I am certain that tremendous blessings overflow through my life. Sometimes I get to see those, sometimes I don’t. And yet, I trust. I trust that with the pain comes healing. I trust that the void I feel is filled by something amazing. I don’t know what could be better than having my dad… I really don’t. But I trust. I trust that my heart will is whole despite the grief.
It was one year ago, almost to the day, that my counselor and I reached the core abandonment wound I’d carried since childhood. I never felt physical and emotional pain the way I did that day. It was excruciating. I’m sure childbirth is much the same. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for weeks. The dam burst open, and all of the sadness and pain that had been stuck in my body for over 30 years began flowing out. Since then, I feel like I’ve been going through adolescence all over again.
It has been a difficult 33 years. I can’t say that it’s all been horrible, but it’s been extremely confusing and frustrating for me to live out my life. Some days are better than others, and lately I’ve been happier and more joyful than ever, but … DAMN. It’s been tough. I wish today that I had a dad, a step dad, a male figure in my life.
My mom said that she never got remarried because she was trying to protect me. While I know nothing happens in God’s world by mistake, I often wonder if I’d had a positive male role model, would I be as screwed up as I have been? Would my life have been easier in any way? Would I have been a better daughter or a better person?
I questioned my validity and existence until about a year ago. I questioned myself, my choices, my preferences, my likes and dislikes…Most of the time I didn’t think it was OK to be me. I thought I was supposed to be like other people and do what they did. I didn’t know that I was just “supposed” to be myself.
And that’s what it comes down to…learning myself. Learning who I am, owning my heart’s desires, becoming familiar with my own vibration and light—that’s the path I’ve been on since I took responsibility for my life at the age of 28. That’s not a typo; I meant 28.
Maybe this path is supposed to help others. Maybe, because I’ve taken the time to understand myself and my heart, I can help other people do the same. Maybe amazing goodness is meant to manifest from the tattered and torn fabric of my youth. Maybe, just maybe, hearts will be resurrected from the pain of death and suffering. Maybe I’m meant to help people recover their hearts after tragedy strikes. Maybe I’m meant to help people remember their wholeness and joy.