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This should really be entitled, "An Ode to Daddy," because my mother died when I was five and a half years old. Daddy raised me, not remarrying until I myself was married. It was only when I was too tired to play games with my own daughter, or was too busy to sit and have an intense talk with her about what happened to her that day in school, that I suddenly realized, one day, that perhaps Daddy hadn't really wanted to go with me to the amusement park every Sunday and ride the Whip and the Turtle again and again and again. And maybe, just maybe, he really hadn't been so excited to play a game of ball with me outside after coming home from a long day at work. And, hard as it seems to imagine, maybe he really would have preferred going to the grocery store alone so he could quickly get what we needed, without making it into a major outing with me.
But I never knew these things, or even guessed it, while I was growing up.
Finding out all the details of my life, and hearing a play-by-play description of my day at school, playing games both inside and outside, and talking and reading together…well, this was just what a parent did. This was what a parent wanted to do. This was, in fact, what being a parent was all about.
It wasn't until I was living away from home in college that I found out that not every father called his child each day at lunchtime to ask how the morning had gone.
It wasn't until I was living away from home, in college, that I found out, by a chance response from a friend, that not every father called his child each day at lunchtime to ask how the morning had gone. My reaction when my friend mentioned that her father had never called her at lunchtime: "But how did he know how your morning was going?"
Hard to believe, but I asked it in all seriousness. This was my first inkling that not all fathers were as interested as mine in what was going on in their children's lives.
And I never thought to ask if her mother was.
Only rarely did I realize that I was missing a mother. Daddy made me wonderful birthday parties and was always there for me if whenever I needed or wanted anything. The fact that we had no other family living in the vicinity wasn't unusual. None of my friends had large or extended families. Yet it's only now, with my own children, that I realize how good a parent he was, and how hard, and lonely, it might have been for him.
I wish I could be as good a parent. For it truly is not the number of parents in a family that counts, but the quality of their parenting. What matters is teaching a child to be filled with joy and contentment with his or her lot, which almost automatically leads to gratitude. It's inculcating the feeling of not needing what other people have, and not wishing to be anyone else. It's fostering a sense of completeness in oneself, no matter how much better you are trying to be.
That's what a parent can instill, and should instill, in every child. And two parents should be able to instill twice as much. But it will never happen if the parent won't hang up the phone when the child enters the room, if s/he won't realize that an adult conversation can be finished later, but that showing a child you want to spend time with him/her now, is forever. And it won't happen if the parent answers that cell phone while walking down the street with the child - even if s/he thinks that it will only be a two-minute conversation. Watching the bird fly by will be missed, as well as will the funny whatever that you two could have shared. And it will be missed forever. As will those many Shabbos afternoons when the child is "keeping busy" while we take a Shabbos nap.
Mother or father or both - the point is to realize that we only have the first few years of a child's life in which to create our relationship with him, and to form the person that child will end up being. Those business meetings and social charity functions, those conversations with friends and associates, the cleaning and laundry and even the food shopping, all need to be restructured as parenting opportunities. And if it cannot be redesigned, it should be postponed.
Because being a parent cannot be postponed. If it is, the child usually no longer has the time for you, or the interest.
This article is from "The Mother in Our Lives," (Targum/Feldheim) a new anthology of Jewish women's writing edited by Sarah Shapiro
(14) Anonymous , August 3, 2009
My father left me alone.
It is great to have such a father, when your mother passed away. Thank God, there are good fathers and you are happy. My mother passed away when I was 2 years old, I am the only child and all alone. My father remarried afterwards. I was grown up by relatives of my mother, uncle, aunt until I got 6 years old. I was still a child and I don't remember many things. I saw my father when I got 7 years old. He used to come to see me quite often during the 6 years ,till I got 13 years old. That time I was living in my grandfathers place. I left them my father's side at 13 y.o. since I have never seen my father. He never tried to contact me or ask how I was living since that time. It's been 14 years now, I didn't hear from him, but I know he has his another family and children. What I want to say is that the mothers are precious, even though I haven't had my mom for a long. I had the every possible hardships of the life and I fought alone. I was a boy, thank God, and could stand hard enough for every obstacles. The God gave me the good friends around, who have been supporting me. Without them, I couldn't stand for this life's hardships. That's for sure. When I got above twenty years old, I didn't use to think about my mother and father. I became a man who could support himself. But getting married two years ago, and having my own son. I really miss my parents, and especially my mother.I need her support and nice words to teach me about being a good family and raising a child. My wife turned out to be not matching me ,whom we fought very frequent. Oh, life ... God why did you give me such a hard life? At least, my wife should be supporting me, not always arguing with me. Thanks for the son God, I cannot leave him, divorcing. I don't know what to do. What to expect, but I know if I had a mother ,someone who could say nice words to me I would live on happily. I miss you mother, I forgive you father and I will find you.
(13) Anonymous , June 15, 2008
MY MOTHER DIED WHEN I WAS FIVE AND A HALF ALSO,,,,,
MY WONDERFUL FATHER NEVER REMARRIED,, I DIDNT EVEN FEEL ANY DEEP NEED OF MY MOTHER BECAUSE MY FATHER WAS SO DEVOTED AND ATTENTIVE AND LOVING,,,,,HE LIVED TO SEE MY FIRST 2 SONS,, HE DIED WHEN HE WAS 52 AND I CRIED FOR HIM EVERY NITE IN MY DREAMS,,, MY 3RD SON IS NAMED AFTER HIM,, HE GAVE ME THE GIREAT GIFT OF LIVING EVERY DAY TO ITS VERY FULLEST,, THE GIFT OF LOVING PEOPLE, MY OWN AND OTHERS AND THE STRENGTH TO ENDURE THE LOSS OF MY OLDEST SON AND ENDURE WITHOUT BITTERNESS..BECAUSE OF HIM I RAISED 3 WONDERDFUL BOYS!!!!AND REJOICED IN MY MARRIAGE!!!!,
(12) Embi , June 15, 2008
I hope your Dad read this
Your Dad was obviously a devoted, family man even if it was not always easy for him. With this article you have given him the naches and acknowledgement every parent dreams of.
(11) ruth housman , June 15, 2008
Father's Day!
This is a beautiful piece, and so apt that I am reading it today, being Father's Day. Your Dad was special. I hope he did find time for himself, because it sounds like he did so much for you, and usually we all draw strength from other sources by taking care of ourselves. I bet he did.
You sound like a truly great daughter!
Loss of a parent is such a significant event. Sounds like you grew up strong and loving and whatever he did, he did it well!
(10) Anonymous , June 15, 2008
for aadarsh
sending you a BIG hug. and a world of brachos, for the pain that will heal, and the joy to be lived, in the you that you are.