How Speaking On The Role Of A Dad To Young Teens Helped Me Forgive My Dad

Three nights ago, I spoke to a room full of 13 and 14 year olds. Topic? The role of a dad. Gotta say I wasn’t sure how best to engage them. But it turned out alright in the end.

Partly because I decided to be my raw, vulnerable and deeply authentic self. In short, someone who’s not really nailed the role of a dad yet. Then again, who dares to claim they have? But I did at least picked up some tips from those who have gone before me. Tips I wished to pass along to teens who desire to understand more about how and why the role of fathers is so important to a family.

And partly because these teens actually chose to be there (yes they did!). To listen to a stranger tell them about what the role of a dad is.

Something unexpected happened too at the end of the session.

But first, let’s back track a bit.

How It All Began

A few months ago, one of the leads in the local chapter of international organisation Focus on The Family (FOTF) approached me. She asked if I would accept their invite to be a guest speaker at an annual youth camp FOTF organised. Called “Fam Champs“, it is a community movement that started in 2014. Goal? To raise young family champions who believe in, live out and champion the family.

Most noble and most “on brand” for someone like me (who blogs regularly about family) to play a role in. Right?

Except that, until I was invited, I never knew this youth camp existed!

Apologising sheepishly, I told the lead I wasn’t sure if I was the right person. Considering I’ve had — and still have — ongoing struggles connecting with and parenting my two teenage sons.

Still, I was curious. What would it be like to speak to teens that age? Maybe it won’t be too much different from the classes I regularly teach where the students are a bit older, between 17 and 19 years.

Only one way to find out I guess.

So, after some persuasion from FOTF, I accepted the invite and began planning for the session.

Recalling Life With My Dad

As with most invitations, organisers typically prepare a list of questions for invited speakers to mull over ahead of the event.

This one was no different.

I have to say though I wasn’t prepared for the memories of my childhood their questions dredged up. You see, they wanted to understand how my childhood was like. To know what I had learned about fathering from my dad.

The questions included the following

1) Stories from your childhood and upbringing, and your relationship interactions with your dad. 
-> how did this influence you (e.g. beliefs and values, outlook on life, approach to relationships, family, and marriage)? 

2) How did your relationship with your dad influence the way you parent? 

3) What are some common hurts you think youths (aged 13-15 years old) might have in relation to their dads, and what advice might you have for these youths? 

In addressing parts of these questions three nights ago to a room full of surprisingly attentive teenagers (since their attention spans are typically understood to be less than that of goldfishes!), I thought I would be digging up past hurts and traumas. In the past, I’ve blogged about the abuse I suffered under my dad. He had been physically violent and mostly a tyrant in our home so my siblings and me tend to steer clear of him as much as we can.

Maybe time has healed some of those wounds — my dad passed away 11 years ago — because instead of dwelling long and hard on those experiences, I found myself remembering and sharing instead two things about him that stood out.

My Dad Combed My Hair

The first thing was his constant reminder to me to study about computers and to find a job near home.

Many may find it odd that I single this out. To understand why, there are two things you need to know.

One is that, growing up in China back in the 1920s, my dad didn’t attend any school. He wasn’t considered “educated” even though he had a private tutor for a while. So education was something he (like many born there) prized highly.

Another was that this reminder to his children was dished out in the 70s and 80s. That was a time when computers were still a luxury. As someone uneducated, it was no small achievement that he recognised the trend and wanted his children not to miss it.

As for working close to home, well, that’s just his introversion and avoidance of anything new and strange calling. Still, in hindsight, I think it’s good advice all around.

But the second thing that I remember had nothing to do with computer or work.

It had to do with my hair!

On most mornings when I was little, I had to wake up at the crack of dawn to prepare for school. I gobbled down breakfast and hurriedly packed my schoolbag so I can be ready when the school bus comes around.

Despite what often feels like a morning mad rush, my father would always insist I stay in the kitchen where I had my breakfast. There he would comb my hair.

My dad would always sit me down with my back to him, made sure I stayed still while he leisurely removes the lid from a tub of Brylcreem, lather it generously onto my tiny scalp and proceed to comb. By the time he’s done, I looked like a mini Pee-wee Herman!

As he combed, he would go into his usual lecture about how it’s important to study hard and be a good kid. Pay attention in class and don’t pick up bad habits and vices. Stuff like that, which I would obediently listen to since I couldn’t do anything else while he was combing.

Who Knew Recalling Could Lead To Forgiving?

Sometimes things just have a way of happening that takes you by surprise.

That’s what happened after my sharing three nights ago. And it happened so matter-of-factly I wasn’t even aware!

In recounting my childhood, I found myself declaring calmly to the captivated audience that I forgave my dad for all those wasted years when he spent more time being distant or abusive than close and engaging.

And suddenly, those simple words I heard myself utter to the teenagers before me, became truth.

I forgive you dad.

And in so doing, I forgive myself too. For all those years I hated him for the things he did or didn’t do. While it doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten (after all, the body always keeps the score), it does mean I don’t have to only remember him one way.

I can also remember how he patiently combed my hair. A moment where he showed he did have a tender side to him.

Here’s hoping I too will show my children more than one tender moment. Then when my time is up, those moments will be what they will have and hold. To be passed on to their children as well.