I am becoming my father. Every man does. I carry my dad around in my body, hear his voice when I open my mouth to speak, and I see my father’s face every time I look in the mirror.
And I struggle with this. At times I am proud to be my father’s son, proud to carry on his legacy, to look, and sound like him, to gesture as he does, and to note that my handwriting resembles his, and so does how I answer the phone. He’s the first man I knew and looked up to, the strong one who did the best he could for me when my mother died. My dad was the consummate breadwinner, working long hours, making my life easier through his toiling, and setting an example about the value and importance of his job. Why wouldn’t I treasure seeing him in myself?
More often, in all honesty, I’m freaked out by the prospect that I am becoming my father. After all, I’ve spent most of my adult life actively pursuing a different path than he did. I value leisure over hard work, spend more family time than time on the job, and I look for ways to share my feelings and struggles and joys, rather than hide my emotions. And where my father may have celebrated life with excess that now shows up in his poor health and physical condition, I am the consummate baby boomer, eating right, exercising, and doing all that I can to extend my quality of life while aging more gracefully than the previous generation.
I wonder if my own son sees me in himself, and if so, how that makes him feel. Is he still proud of his old man, seeking in some way to emulate the skier, the hipster, and the pop who puts balance and integration before wealth and acclaim?
Certainly these days I am seeing a bit more of myself in my son. As Jordy becomes a teen, I recall with familiarity the difficult emotions and situations of my adolescence, and I try to support, and model, and listen to him. I try to know who he’s becoming, what’s important to him, what he likes and wants and fears. And I want him to know as much about me, about the best that I am, what I believe and stand for, and the things that matter most to me. So that when he looks in the mirror and catches a glimpse of someone he may recognize as me, there’s a bit less surprise, concern, and disappointment than I feel these days.
And as my father approaches his 80th birthday this month, I also wonder who he sees, and what he feels, when he looks at himself in the mirror each day.
…and that’s the full-circle fatherhood report for this week.
[Inspired by poets Trinidad Sanchez Jr., and Ramon Del Castillo, and a recent edition of The Grateful Dad Radio Hour.]
