Fatherhood

I haven't thought about my biological father in a while.

Well, that's not completely true. Every time I come home from work and then check the mail, I wonder if he's finally come around and written me.

So far, nothing.

But what I meant was that I haven't done anything about contacting him myself. He sits on the back-burner of my life, always there, but never taking center-stage.

And that bothers me.

I think it says something about my attitude about my fathers. Maybe it even says something about how our society thinks about fathers. But mostly, I think it says something about me.

If pressed, I suspect I could say something about why finding my mother was so important to me. That need exists at an emotional level, but I think I could find some words.

When it comes to my father, I don't know what I want. A letter would be nice, I suppose. But is it important to me? If so, why don't I do something more about it? What about him matters to me?

Is all of this born from my distrust of men? Do I just not expect much from him, so it doesn't even occur to me hope for something from him?

I don't have answers to these questions. Independent of his own apparent rejection of me, I don't know what I think of him. I'm not always sure why I think of him.

He exists not as a positive presence in my life. He exists merely as an absence, a void. And confronting that void is frightening in some way. Whether because I'm afraid of what I will find or because I'm afraid I will find I don't care, I can't say.

And until I confront these issues, I don't think I will be able to say.