extraordinary child. Every parent says that about their kids. And to you he was probably just another shitting, crying, moaning, kind of cute little thing. But to me he was, is, always will be shattering proof of all that is magical in this world. Despite my feelings about our marriage, he was conceived from a place of love and desire. He was wanted, desperately wanted, and from the get-go he was adored and admired and awesome and astounding and all the As there are.
And yet. There were so many messy things that had happened to me in my life that I had been too short-sighted, lazy or scared (take your pick) to clean up before he came along. And because of that he had an introduction to this world that was harder than most. A four-year-old having a father who spent nine months in psychiatric hospitals does not have a father in any real sense of the word. An infant having a father who had not even remotely conquered his particular brand of crazy does not have a father. Deciding to create life before being absolutely certain that I had the skills necessary to do that responsibly is an almost unforgivable transgression and yet that is exactly what I did.
I had a list of qualities I wanted to embody as a father. It included words like strong, available, ever-present, patient, secure, married, loving. And I fell far short on all of them save for that last one. Loving. Andsuch was the power of biology, the universe, genes, the heart, nature, loving my son was and is the easiest, most natural thing in the world to me. I struggle to do it for myself, my friends, girlfriends, even family. But with Jack? It is like breathing.
As Iâve started to battle some of my past demons, there are things that Iâm able to offer him now, albeit a little behind schedule. Heâll never have to worry about doing a job that âlooks rightâ. He will only ever need to consider doing something that makes him laugh, jump up and down with excitement and want to tell the whole world about. And if he canât earn enough money from that to live comfortably I will happily pick up the slack and support him for as long as is necessary. The only thing that I want for him, much more than academic or financial success, is to be relentless in his pursuit of laughter and joy.
I want him to know the secret of happiness. It is so simple that it seems to have eluded many people. The trick is to do whatever you want to do that makes you happy, as long as youâre not hurting those around you. Not to do what you think you should be doing. Nor what you think other people believe you should be doing. But simply to act in a way that brings you immense joy. To be able to say a gentle and kind ânoâ to things that donât please you, to walk away from situations that donât fulfil you, to move towards things that delight you. And there is nothing I will not do in order to help him achieve that.
I donât think I will ever be able to make my peace with the fact that the ripples of my past became tidal waves when he was born. It doesnât matter at all that I didnât have the luxury of choice when it came to losing my shit and breaking down. That I would have walkedthrough fire for eternity to spare him having a father who was absent, fucked, a disgrace, a shadow of what a father should be. Saying sorry to him is as empty and as hollow a gesture as I can think of. The one slim shot I have of making it sincere in his eyes is a constant, focused, urgent commitment to follow that apology with genuine and heartfelt change.
Whether he forgives me or not, I am now, finally, strong, available, present and open. I am now, later than Iâd wanted, ready to be his father and I believe in him and his ability to set fire to the world in the best possible way. I am fiercely, unremittingly, devastatingly proud of him.
TRACK NINE
Bruckner Symphony No. 7, Second Movement
Herbert von Karajan, Conductor
On one of my first trips to
And yet. There were so many messy things that had happened to me in my life that I had been too short-sighted, lazy or scared (take your pick) to clean up before he came along. And because of that he had an introduction to this world that was harder than most. A four-year-old having a father who spent nine months in psychiatric hospitals does not have a father in any real sense of the word. An infant having a father who had not even remotely conquered his particular brand of crazy does not have a father. Deciding to create life before being absolutely certain that I had the skills necessary to do that responsibly is an almost unforgivable transgression and yet that is exactly what I did.
I had a list of qualities I wanted to embody as a father. It included words like strong, available, ever-present, patient, secure, married, loving. And I fell far short on all of them save for that last one. Loving. Andsuch was the power of biology, the universe, genes, the heart, nature, loving my son was and is the easiest, most natural thing in the world to me. I struggle to do it for myself, my friends, girlfriends, even family. But with Jack? It is like breathing.
As Iâve started to battle some of my past demons, there are things that Iâm able to offer him now, albeit a little behind schedule. Heâll never have to worry about doing a job that âlooks rightâ. He will only ever need to consider doing something that makes him laugh, jump up and down with excitement and want to tell the whole world about. And if he canât earn enough money from that to live comfortably I will happily pick up the slack and support him for as long as is necessary. The only thing that I want for him, much more than academic or financial success, is to be relentless in his pursuit of laughter and joy.
I want him to know the secret of happiness. It is so simple that it seems to have eluded many people. The trick is to do whatever you want to do that makes you happy, as long as youâre not hurting those around you. Not to do what you think you should be doing. Nor what you think other people believe you should be doing. But simply to act in a way that brings you immense joy. To be able to say a gentle and kind ânoâ to things that donât please you, to walk away from situations that donât fulfil you, to move towards things that delight you. And there is nothing I will not do in order to help him achieve that.
I donât think I will ever be able to make my peace with the fact that the ripples of my past became tidal waves when he was born. It doesnât matter at all that I didnât have the luxury of choice when it came to losing my shit and breaking down. That I would have walkedthrough fire for eternity to spare him having a father who was absent, fucked, a disgrace, a shadow of what a father should be. Saying sorry to him is as empty and as hollow a gesture as I can think of. The one slim shot I have of making it sincere in his eyes is a constant, focused, urgent commitment to follow that apology with genuine and heartfelt change.
Whether he forgives me or not, I am now, finally, strong, available, present and open. I am now, later than Iâd wanted, ready to be his father and I believe in him and his ability to set fire to the world in the best possible way. I am fiercely, unremittingly, devastatingly proud of him.
TRACK NINE
Bruckner Symphony No. 7, Second Movement
Herbert von Karajan, Conductor
On one of my first trips to
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