Tag Archives: Father son Relationships

The Power of Parental Love

Posted on by under Acceptance, Father's Day, Fatherhood, Fathers, Forgiveness, Love, Parenting

Nothing is more powerful to the life and self-esteem of a child than knowing they are loved and accepted by their parents.

While mothers often get most of the credit as the nurturers in a family, dads play a vital role in loving their kids too. Unfortunately, most guys have a hard time showing their feelings, of being vulnerable. This is largely due to gender stereotypes and patterns passed down from generation to generation. That’s not always the case but generally, it’s much more difficult for dads to show affection in the form of empathy and compassion to their kids than it is for moms.

But there is one thing that has a direct impact on a child’s long-term well-being, self-esteem, and sense of worth in the world. It’s one word that is more powerful than any other form of encouragement we can give our children.

That one word is LOVE.

With Father’s Day fast here many people have mixed emotions about their dads.

For years I was angry at my dad for abandoning me, my two younger brothers, and my mom when I was twelve years old. Even though my mom was there, I felt completely alone.

I was a shy, introverted kid who had done well in school and my world had just been turned upside down. To mask the feelings of emptiness, I turned to drugs and alcohol to escape. I went from being a good kid who felt loved to a recluse on a self-destructive path that nearly cost me my life.

At twenty-two, the wheels came off the wagon. My life was slipping into a pit of alcoholic despair. I even briefly entertained thoughts of ending it all, but a greeting card changed the direction of my life.

One afternoon I came to and saw an envelope on my nightstand. Inside was a simple greeting card with penguins standing on an iceberg. In the middle was one lone sunburnt penguin standing in the middle.

Inside the card read,

Son,

You are one in a million.

I love you too much to watch you die.

Please get help.

Love, Mom.

That card was a lifeline.

Shortly after I went into rehab and began to heal.

But as I began the process of recovery, I still had feelings of anger and resentment toward my dad. Part of my recovery required me to forgive him. To let go of the anger I had toward him. I tried, multiple times, but anytime I faced stress or doubt or confusion, the anger returned.

Then I became a dad. In many ways, I tried to be the dad I thought I’d lost. I did my best to play catch with my son. To show up for his baseball games. To be there for him and not repeat the mistakes of my dad.

Sadly, my first marriage didn’t last. But we both made a commitment to keep loving our son no matter what.

We all make mistakes and sometimes we have to remember to forgive ourselves and others.

I did the best I could by being present in my son’s life and showing how much I love him. I do the same for my stepkids and they all have turned out to be fine adults.

One day after work, I got a call from my mom that my dad was in the hospital. It had been two years since I saw him. The next day, I went to visit him.

As I turned the corner and peeked into his room, I felt a lump in my throat. My dad lay in a gown staring out the window at a mighty oak. As I entered the room he turned and said, “Shawn! So good to see you.” Though he was smiling, his gaunt face covered with salt and pepper stubble, made me take pause. He’s dying and I need to heal old wounds I thought.

We had a wonderful conversation, and I finally felt the connection I’d lost for too many years.

He left me with the most important words any child could hear,

“I love you son. I’ve always loved you, boys. I’m sorry we didn’t get to see each other more.”

This father’s day, if your dad is still around or if you’re a dad, I encourage you to let go of any harsh feelings, call or send a note and say these three powerful simple words,


“I love you.”

It’s never too late to say, “I love you.”

Posted on by under Father's Day

Those three words have the ability to change someone’s life, or, at least their day.  They are three of the most important words to a child’s ears.

wp-1464277254498Simple loving acts of kindness can also spread joy. Watch how much another lights up when you smile at them. Or when you show genuine interest in another or listen intentionally.

Though all are free, each requires a conscious effort to intentionally take our eyes off of ourselves and put them onto another for a moment, without expecting anything in return.

Yet, often what we get back in terms of joy is invaluable.

 

Two nights ago, while on Vacation in Maui, I stood at the sand shower by the pool hosing off my sandy feet. A small toddler walking with his mother paused for a moment to watch. He was clearly fascinated by what I was doing. I looked at him, then his mom. “It gets the sand off,” I said to the little blond boy, pushing the button and dangling my feet beneath the light spray.

“Wanna try it?” I asked, smiling at him.  He hesitated for a moment then stepped closer. He balanced on one leg and placed his tiny foot under the shower. Beaming, he looked at me for approval. “Good job. Pretty cool eh?”

He beamed and stepped back as I rinsed my other foot. He then moved forward again to do the same.

This was a moment, frozen in time, which I will probably remember for the rest of my life. Will the young lad? Perhaps.

The point is, life is too short to miss opportunities to spread joy; to be loving and kind.

It also made me miss my own son and my dad.

In February of this year I delivered a five-minute talk about my memoir, Beyond Recovery.

My goal wasn’t to convince anyone that they need to get sober. No, my goal was to share that it is OK to let people know you love them and that forgiveness is one of the most powerful ways to do that.

Several close friends and family sat around a long table listening intently as I began reading an excerpt from Beyond Recovery entitled Second Chances. As I scanned the audience, I noticed others leaning in. Some even had tears welling up.

I never really know what will reach someone. Each time I practice telling my story I have to try a few things before I know what works.

I took my seat after answering several good questions then listened to a few other speakers.

When the event was over, the soundman approached me as I began to leave.

He asked if my dad had always said I love you. I paused for a moment, “Yeah, I guess so.”  I replied.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because mine never did,” he said, eyes looking away…

He talked a bit about it. I listened, but didn’t press. I sensed that it was still a sore subject.

He thanked me again for sharing a piece of my story—said it touched him.

“You made my day. Thank you!” I replied, shaking his hand.

We all yearn for two things: Love and Acceptance

Father’s day is this Sunday. Even if your relationship is less than perfect with your father, I encourage you all to let him know you love him. If he is no longer here, perhaps you could write a love letter. Trust me; it will change your world.

If you are a dad, most kids will always love you.  It’s OK to say I love you to them. They need to hear it. If you are a single mother encourage your kids to talk to their dad, if possible.
My hope and prayer and goal by sharing a piece of my heart, that you too will find that which you seek. Sometimes you have to give it before you receive it.

Here’s the excerpt I read.  You can order Beyond Recovery through any local bookstore or on amazon

 

Beyond Recovery A Journey of Grace, Love, and Forgiveness

Chapter 25
Second Chances

 

Miracles and Milkshakes

Whether you believe there are no mistakes or not, I do. I have seen things happen so many times that seemed wrong or painful or didn’t make any sense. When I looked within, prayed, or talked it out with another, I learned to walk through whatever it was that was causing me agony inside. I came through. I survived. …

Miracles happen every day. So do tragedies, I wish I could say the story ends here and we all lived happily ever after…that’s only in movies and fairy tales.

In October of 2005 I got a call from my mom …

“Your aunt called and said that your dad is very sick. You should go see him,” she urged. “He’s at Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital.”

Shit. Here we go again. Another hospital visit. Why me? Why now?

“Okay. I’ll stop by after work.”

My heart pounded as I parked the car.

Is it too late? What if he’s going to die? How am I going to handle this?

Suffocating from the ‘what ifs,’ I said a short prayer.

“God, please grant me the strength and courage to face this situation. To accept it for whatever it is. To come from a place of compassion and let my dad know how much I love him.”

I walked into the hospital and asked the receptionist which room he was in.

She gave me the number and pointed to the room. I walked down the dimly lit hall. It was quiet. The room was dark. My dad lay in a hospital gown. He’d lost forty to fifty pounds since I last saw him three years earlier. Salt and pepper stubble covered his gaunt face. He looked very frail.

Our eyes met. His warm smile melted away all the pain and hurt and anger of the past thirty-five years.

My heart glowed with his beaming smile. He was truly delighted to see me. In that moment he showed me what it was like to let go of the past. In that moment, despite his body giving up, he was radiant.

His smile filled my heart with so much joy. I was so, so glad it wasn’t too late. I really don’t know how I could’ve handled it if I was too late.

“Hi Dad!”

“Shawn,” he chuckled, “you look good!”

“Thanks Dad,” I said, giving him a hug. “So what’s going on?” I asked, trying to be strong.

“Some infection…they don’t know.”

“Wow. You’ve lost a lot of weight,” I remarked, feeling a little uneasy and very concerned about his health. His smile didn’t match his body. But he was at peace—I could see it in his warm brown eyes. He’s letting go, I thought.

The stubble on his face reminded me of all the times he’d given me a hug and a kiss goodnight as a kid. I felt safe. I looked up to my dad so much as a young child. I could brag that my dad was a fireman! When he left us, all that changed. The love I felt was replaced by anger and hurt. He had abandoned me and my two brothers, and I let it imprison me. I drank over it so I wouldn’t have to face the feelings. But now, the love we shared for so many years was stronger than ever. It enabled me to push through the layers of resentment, like a seedling reaching for the sunlight in spring.

As I held his hand, I felt all that love come rushing back. Fond childhood memories rushed forward. After baths as a child, he would dry my hair by vigorously rubbing it with a towel. I loved that. Now, as we talked about life and how much I loved him, once again, I asked for his forgiveness for all the anger I had held from the past.

Without thinking about it, I began to rub his head—a comforting gesture he had done for me so many times as a kid.

“Dad, I love you.”

“Ha!” he chuckled. His eyes expressed peace, love and care. “I love you, too, Shawn. I’m sorry we lost Seth.” His voice trailed off a bit. (We hadn’t really talked about the loss of my brother since the time several years earlier. I had made amends with this as part of my recovery.) Still, his words touched a piece of the wound that still existed.

“Please let Kelly know I love him, too,” he continued. “Even though I never got to see you boys much, I thought about you often. You were always with me,” he said, holding his hand close to his heart, smiling. Tears streamed down my face. “I know, Dad. I know. It wasn’t easy, but we all turned out all right.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of you, Shawn.”

I wiped the tears from my face. “Thank you. I love you, Dad. Is there anything you’d like?”

“A milkshake,” he replied quickly with a childlike smile.

“A milkshake?”

“Yeah—chocolate.”

I smiled at the simplicity of the request.

“I’ll get you a milkshake the next time I come back, okay?”

“I’d like that.” We hugged and said our goodbyes.

That was the last time I saw my father. He passed shortly thereafter.

I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t make it back to get him his chocolate milkshake. I feel a little guilty. I could’ve just gotten it that day. I guess I’ll just have to wait until I see him again. Now, every time I have a milkshake, I think of my father. I imagine us sitting on a park bench watching the ducks, sipping on a milkshake together. Somehow, that helps assuage my guilt. I feel blessed that I got to say goodbye. This experience also serves as a reminder to make peace with those closest to us—to cherish the time that we do have. Our life on this planet is so very brief. Depending on your beliefs, there’s plenty of time for milkshakes in Heaven.