father

[SHELLYBSW]

father...

Not everyone loves their children in the same way.|

My children are lucky. They are so unbelievably lucky. Even if I didn't have one other nice thing to say about my husband (though I do), I can say without hesitation that he is the kind of father, the kind of dad, that every child should have. He is the kind of father that you know will never, ever leave you. The kind that, even if he did, you know he'd be coming back. When he looks at his children, you can see how he loves them. But, not everyone loves their children in the same way.

When I look at my children as they lay sleeping in their beds, I can't imagine being separated from them. As much as I may complain that they drive me crazy, as much as I can be heard for miles on any given day chanting my battle cry of "I need a vacation... by myself", I could never actually take one. Well, maybe just a few days. I could not go any longer than that without knowing where my children were, without being in their presence. I could no more live my life without them than I could rip out my own heart. And if I were inexplicably separated from them, knowing they were out there somewhere without me, might just kill me. But, not everyone loves their children in the same way.

If I knew that my children were out there in the world without me, I could not lay my head to rest at night. If I could not know what my children were doing, or how they were feeling, I could not pretend that they did not exist. If I were unable to follow the highs and lows of my children's lives, it would be as though a piece of me was missing. If I could not touch my children, hug my children, love my children, it would be as if my chest had been ripped open and my heart exposed and bleeding might just cease to beat. But not everyone loves their children in the same way.

If my child reached out to me and I could not reach back, I would curse the very arms that stretched from my body and spurned me. If my child called to me and I could not answer, I might think that my voice betrayed me in the most heinous of ways. If my child longed for me and I could not come to them for lack of want, I would think that my heart had turned cold and hard. But not everyone loves their children in the same way.

And if my children ever have to hold their tongues for fear that the truth they speak will scar me, I will know that I have failed. If their truths once released, never able to be taken back, hurt me, and sting my soul, then I will know that I deserve whatever pain comes to me. And if I ever make my children feel that they are not good enough, not worthy enough, not able to sustain my love, then I will know how you must feel... father. Because not everyone loves their children in the same way.

Not everyone loves their children at all.