2009 ... a father's tale

As the last few days of 2009 dissipated into the ether, I was again fortunate enough to spend that time, much as I did last year, on a beach in Florida. The beach is a siren song for me, forcing me to relax, breathe a little deeper, walk a little straighter, and stare inward and reflect. My yearning to write intensifies. The beach is where I doodled thoughts, dreams, and ideas as a lost and struggling high schooler trying to define himself, and it's where I crafted a love poem, a first for my then girlfriend, now wife, who was many miles away. Heck, the beach is where I first MET Jillian.

I'm sure many of you have a place like that; a cathartic escape from the stresses of what burdens you. Last year closed with me forced to deal with the trials and tribulations of being a father for the first time and the life complications that come with it. At that time, ten months in, I was flummoxed at what it meant to be a father and a husband as this new life shift started to happen. This year, again I was called to the beach, but I wasn't alone anymore. Megan, now fully mobile, became privy to my hallowed turf.

A year and ten months has made me no less an expert on fatherhood, but the passage of time has allowed me to feel more comfortable in this new found role. Part of that comfort is my daughter's ability to understand basic communication. It was a watershed moment. For someone who my wife says refuses to shut up, not conversing with Megan was difficult. To have this person I'm 100% responsible for, and who I am beyond excited to talk to, share stories with, and teach lessons to, it was agonizing to be kept from that role.

And even though she's only started talking, I can't help but think how she has grown up so fast in just this past year. Looking at the pictures on the blog from a few weeks ago, I noticed she started the year as a baby, and now, she has surpassed any milestones I might have imposed on her.

Recently she entered into this 'shy stage.' I think she's becoming more aware of her surroundings and more scared and unsure of what a lot of it represents. Because of that she is extremely clingy in new situations and around new people. It's completely understandable. I tell her it's okay, the 'big' things around her won't hurt her, I promise. But she's not easily swayed and continues to hunker farther into my pant leg. It's these moments I cherish. Outwardly I'm telling her to be brave, soak in the experience, but inwardly I melt at the chance to continue to be her foundation.

Life has definitely become simpler, my world is 'dumbed down' because of her. In the past few months I've had several tea parties, 'danced' like a drunken fool, played the role of horsey, created make believe stories involving her 'little people' sets, and basically played the role of a clown. But because of that I feel like I've become much more cognizant of how rewarding play can be, that moving away from the television set is not a detriment, and that just because I'm an adult doesn't mean I can't still be creative.

Do I wish she didn't shout "DADDY" incessantly over and over ... and over again? Sure. Do I wish she wasn't going through this volatile stage of hoarding her possessions? Sure. But those memories somehow  become short lived, faint wisps of fogginess of a world ago.

I can't imagine not being that safe haven for her. Ever.

My parents divorced when I was just four years old, and when I left living with my dad after the eighth grade for the stability of my mom's house, it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. I think he saw it as my giving up on him. It wasn't. Our communication faded to about three phone calls a year, all initiated by me. One of the last times I talked to him was stopping to visit him in Texas during my freshman year of college for Spring Break. He was helping pay for the trip, which ironically, was to the beach where I would first meet Jillian. As a teenager I could barely grasp his rationale for not wanting to be a bigger part of my life, but as a thirty-two-year-old adult, and now parent myself, it makes even less sense. There is no way I could ever live a life without a relationship with my daughter. Over time I've come to terms that despite sharing numerous physical features, the character traits we are driven by separate us.

So as I continually prepare mentally to be a father for Megan's different life stages I have to revert to other male figures in my life who helped shape and provide meaning into what it means to be a father. I am continually grateful for my stepfather Steve, my brother Kenny, and my father-in-law Carey, for their influence in molding me through their actions and their words. They have had a hand in raising me through the various stages of my development when I needed it and which I rely on incessantly as I try to be a father to Megan.

So my New Year's resolution this year as a father is to be as gentle as my stepfather, as protective as my older brother, and as genuine as my father-in-law. If I can measure up to those traits, being a father to Megan in 2010 will be child's play.

Exactly how I want it.