The Success And Failure Of Being A Dad!

Father's Day.

My extremely handsome son George took me out for a meal at lunchtime. We went to a American style diner. The waiting staff are dressed as cowboys and cowgirls, and the whole place is adorned with western style decor. It is amazingly popular, despite very high prices.

I didn't want him to spend his hard earned money on me, but he insisted. He knows the joy to be had in giving. Later on I learned from Tricia that he had planned on taking me to a really expensive place nearby here, but wasn't able to book a table.

It was great being with him, just the two of us. He is such good company. A genuinely nice young lad. How that has happened with a Dad like me I can't fathom. He must get it from his Mum's side.

After my treat, he felt a bit guilty I think, because he had arranged a camping trip with his mates, and thought that he ought to be with me on Father's day. Of course I put his mind at rest about that. I am just pleased that he has good friends to share things with.

Anyway tonight I watched the football on TV on my own. Tricia was there but she is not that into football. Unless it is her beloved Everton FC.

Before he went off camping extremely handsome son George presented me with a big bottle of coke and a six pack of my favourite popcorn. Very thoughtful. He knows my football watching habits.

The miniature bottle of Jack Daniels was a Father's Day gift from the restaurant.

When the match had finished so had all the popcorn and most of the coke. I felt sick. I am such a glutton. Don't think I'm ever going to learn.

He phoned me after the match to say good night, and to tell me I'm the best Dad in the world, and that he loves me.

Now I'm sitting here thinking about what it is to be a Dad. I have done my best, but I am hurting inside a bit. I am thinking of my daughter. I seem to have ruined that relationship. We were so close when she was a child. Almost inseparable. Went everywhere together, shared adventures.

I don't know what went wrong. Maybe she thinks I should have stayed with her Mum. She doesn't get on with Tricia. Although they were once friends. Anyway I'm not going to dwell on it. What's the point? I'm here if she needs me. She knows that because I told her so. She also knows that I love her. I told her that too. A million times.

Thinking about my extremely handsome son George, do you know, I have never, in all his 18 years, told him off, or even raised my voice to him. Now I'm not sure if I should feel proud about that or not. Perhaps that's just the way good Dads are. But I don't know. Because I never knew my own Dad. He pissed of when I was a baby.

I did go through a phase of wanting to get in touch with my Dad, but I never did. Because I realised in time, that I only wanted to meet him, so that I could punch him several times really hard.

So glad I never bothered. He wasn't worth wasting any emotion on. My sister and brother did once try to make contact. Actually found him and knocked on his door! He sent them packing. Told them, in no uncertain terms apparently, not to bother him again.

It is difficult for me to understand how a heartless bastard like that could be my Dad! What hurts though sometimes, is that he started another family. Had more children. So, out there in the big world, I have half siblings I have never met. I wonder how he was with them?

I read a very heartfelt tribute to a Dad today at pasttimeamainebackyardandbeyond.blogspot.co.uk which caused me to come over all emotional. I have no such poignant memories. But hopefully my children, both of them, will think kindly of me when I have gone.

It is wonderful being a Father. Sometimes heartbreaking I know. But I can't understand why any man wouldn't want to have the love and joy of it, in their life.