Читать книгу The Fatherless Father - Reco Inc. McDaniel - Страница 6

“You might be locked in a world not of your own making, her eyes said, but you still have a claim on how it is shaped. You still have responsibilities.”

–Barack Obama, Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance

Picture this: A 6’1” black man sprinting like he’s in the 100-meter dash in the Olympics through Orlando International Airport after a long, tiresome day but still needing to catch a 1:15 p.m. flight back to Atlanta, Georgia. This is me on a muggy July day in Florida. I’m blowing past security, dodging my way around other wayward passengers, trying to make that flight. Yes—suit, tie, and all. My heart’s racing as my mind is replaying the highlights of my life-changing weekend I just experienced at the National Speakers Association National Convention. Suddenly, between hearing “Just the Way You Are” by Bruno Mars over the airport’s loudspeaker for what seems to be the tenth time on this trip, I hear an automated voice say, “The tram is now departing.” I quickly make a promise to myself that it will not be leaving without me—I’ve got to get home.

I manage to squeeze through the 12-inch opening in the tram doors as they quickly shut behind me. The other passengers in the tram car briefly look my way, mainly to make sure I made it on in one piece, because they have been in my position before—running through the airport as if it’s a scene from Home Alone. I look down at my watch and see that it is 1:00 p.m. I begin to have a minor panic attack because my flight will depart soon. Fifteen minutes and counting. I think, How did I let time get away from me so badly that I’m rushing through the airport? I can’t do this again—this is crazy. I begin racing down the escalator at full speed, like a running back going in for the game-winning touchdown, brushing past families, businessmen, and everyone in between, quickly apologizing for all the commotion. But again, they don’t look too irritated because it seems they can empathize with my situation. At this point, there is only one thing on my mind: my son. I cannot miss this flight. I will not break my promise. I will be at his football game tonight, and I will give him our ritual pre-game pep talk.

I look up at the terminal clock, and it says 1:07 p.m. I’m sweating profusely from all the running, and the perspiration begins to drip down my face. The suit I have on doesn’t make it any better, but it was a necessity for the conference. I can still hear my mother’s voice telling me to “always look my best.” This, however, happens to be one of those times that I wish I had on a comfortable t-shirt with some basketball shorts and running shoes.

Finally, I look up and see I’m at Terminal B. I just need to run past 10 gates, and I’m on the next flight to see my boy. I grin with thoughts of witnessing his smile light up when he sees me and keep it as I move through the airport. Through the blur of faces, baby cries, and endless food vendors creeps Gate 85. I slow down with a sigh of relief and thank God that I’ve made it before they closed the cabin doors. I don’t know what I would have done if I ran all this way just to see the door close in my face. “Well, you just made it with 4 minutes to spare! Hurry on now, ya hear,” shouts a sweet old southern accent from the check-in counter. As I approach the boarding door, I am met with reassuring brown eyes and a smile by the woman collecting the tickets. It’s as though she can feel how hard I worked to get to the gate. “It’s alright now, you’ve made it,” she quietly tells me. I catch my breath, quickly hand over my ticket, and rush on the plane with my heart pounding and sweat dripping all over, yet grinning ear to ear because I’m ready to see my son.

I take my seat, ready for the plane to take off as soon as possible. Suddenly, the flight attendant appears.

“Would you like a cold bottle of water, sir?” she says.

“How could you tell? Am I sweating that much?” I reply with a smile on my face.

“Yes, sir. We don’t usually pass out drinks before the plane takes off, but I think we can make an exception for you. You seem like you need it,” she says, nods, and kindly walks away.

I smirk and gratefully take the bottle of water. I’m sure people around me are a little jealous at the special treatment I just received, but I ignore it. Seeing my son’s face will make this entire adventure worth it.

As I get comfortable in my snug airplane seat, my adrenaline is still rushing through my veins. I figured that because I’ll have downtime for the next hour, I will download all of the excitement of the last few days. During that time, I met some of the most successful speakers, authors, and motivators from around the world.

There were men and women representing various ethnic, religious, and culture backgrounds from San Diego, California to London, England and New York, New York to San Juan, Puerto Rico. Everyone was out in full force, allowing themselves to learn from other successful motivators while appreciating the moment—rubbing elbows with the world’s greats was exciting for everyone in attendance.

In the midst of all the successful individuals, I stopped and realized how blessed I was to have reached such high peaks of success at my early age—I have much more than I could have ever dreamed of as a kid. When I was a child growing up in the 1980s, I stood around wondering where my father was while admiring my mother’s hard work from afar. I struggled with feelings of inadequacy, hoping that, one day, I would be able to take a life that started in the projects and do something amazing and influential with it.

And here I was.

I became a multi-million dollar producing entrepreneur within the network marketing industry in my mid-20s, having addressed tens of thousands across the country through motivation and training. In addition to this, I’ve received numerous awards and recognition. I’ve built a gratifying lifestyle, one where I don’t have to worry about my lights being turned off or not having enough gas in my car to get me to a destination. I’ve surrounded myself with mentally strong and hardworking people, and we feed off of each other’s good vibes and push each other to work harder, faster, and more efficiently. I’ve had the opportunity to travel the world: I’ve marveled at the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in one moment and visited Buckingham Palace and Big Ben in London in the next. I was blessed to meet the woman of my dreams, Shanee’, and have her accept me as her husband—one of the greatest gifts any person could have ever given me. Additionally, I have two amazing children who are everything I could have ever dreamed them to be, who make me laugh until my sides hurt, and who also remind me how much of an influence I have in their lives as their father. Last, but certainly not least, I have God, who has brought me through so many trials and tribulations. It’s hard not to think of Psalm 34:4, which says, “I sought the LORD, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.”

And yet, despite all these wonderful things, I know my purpose is greater. I know there is more work for me to do.

“God has been so good to me,” I quietly mumble to myself with a smile.

As I continue to reflect on my life, I hear a young child behind me begin to speak.

“Mommy, how come I never see my dad?” I hear the little boy ask his mother.

This innocent question completely diminishes all thoughts in my head, and I begin to listen intently for the response. As I wait for the answer, I hear a painfully familiar pause of silence as the mother wraps her arms around her son and explains, “It’s me, you, and God, and we are incredibly blessed, don’t you think?”

I can tell he has dropped his head as he solemnly replies, “Yes mommy, we are blessed.”

At this moment, my heart pains for this young boy, and I am struck with a series of emotions, as if I am that boy again; bitterness, sadness, emptiness, and jealousy quickly begin to sneak into my heart. These old emotions I thought I had put to rest rear their ugly heads, reminding me that I never quite got over my experiences as a child. I think about the fact that I never had a father growing up and how that shaped me to be the man I am today, whether those moments were good, bad, or ugly. However, I begin to think about the countless conversations I had with my own mother, and I smile. I feel joy in my heart in that moment, realizing how amazing that woman was—simply recalling how through it all, she was my saving grace.

While the mother and son behind me are having a bonding moment, I realize how strong my own mother was and how much I loved and appreciated her for raising me the way she did. I think about how much I love God for providing me with such a close-knit family, even though my biological father, my blood, was not in the home with me. My thoughts drift again to the two behind me, specifically to the little boy, who can only be about 8 years old, and how there are countless other young males out there with no father to look up to or who would be there to encourage, support, and guide them. They also wonder where their fathers are when it’s time to play catch, when they score their first touchdown, and when they get their acceptance letters into college. They wonder if they did something wrong to “push” their fathers away, hoping that, one day, he will walk through the front door with arms wide open and say three simple words, “I’m home, son.”

I was quickly saddened, realizing the severity of this epidemic in today’s society—how it’s a social norm to be in a single-parent household with no father—and even sadder to realize that often times, these young boys don’t have other family members to lean on, as I had. I begin to think about the fact that I am a father and how seriously I take my duty and responsibility; how I take every hurt growing up and make that a place of joy for my son. However, I also understand that this is often not the case for many young people in today’s society—many parents take their hurt and inflict it on their children who are defenseless against their parent’s wrath. What’s even more unfortunate is how many men these days have children and then leave them fatherless, simply because they did not have a father in their home growing up—the wretched cycle continuing.

As the plane begins its ascent into the open summer sky on its way to Atlanta, I have a moment of revelation. I realize the next level of my purpose and the new chapter in my story: writing a book that will help address the internal conflicts that numerous people are dealing with on a daily basis. In this moment, I realized that it was now part of my mission to help address the emotions surrounding people who are without a husband, a mentor, a partner, or a father who is willing to step in and help take care of his family. Those thoughts helped to set the foundation of this book. The words on these pages will help encourage, inspire, motivate, and bring awareness to men, women, and children who are currently experiencing or have experienced single parenthood.

I want this book to help those growing up without a father. I want it to touch those developing into manhood without a male influence. I want it to assist men who never knew their father but are not using that as an excuse to be absent from their children’s lives. Hopefully, fathers struggling to provide consistent attention to their children will gain some inspiration from my words. This book will provide simple success principles about life that will leave people feeling more confident about themselves, their specific life situation, and their relationships with their family. My mission, with the assistance of this book, is to lay out applicable steps to free people from any stronghold related to this growing epidemic of single-parent households and help them begin living lives without limits and walk into their true and provisioned destiny.

I don’t claim to be a licensed counselor, family therapist, or holder of a PhD who has conducted in-depth research on the causes and effects of single-parent households in a greater society and what this potentially means for the future of the world. I have not conducted hundreds of interviews with young men, asking them their thoughts on growing up with a dad in their lives and what that does for their self-esteem and their self-worth. Additionally, I don’t have any concrete evidence on whether or not young men who are raised by a single mother have a greater likelihood of getting into trouble with the law, which ultimately leads to a life behind bars. However, I AM a man who experienced life without a father, overcame all of the adversity associated with being without an active male parental figure, reached numerous peaks of success, and became a reliable and dedicated father to my two children. I am proof that although your beginning may not start out as you dreamed it to be, that does not mean your future can’t be something wonderful.

I am a Fatherless Father.