Texans’ Lewis is a father of five and loving it
It seems fitting that on Fathers Day I would recognize someone for his devotion to his children. Far too many people think of professional athletes as self-absorbed, immature cretins who will sleep with just about anyone who will spread their legs for them, thus littering the landscape with their unfortunate and often unwanted progeny. Then there are people like Texans WR Derrick Lewis, who though he is by no means guaranteed a roster spot come September, nonetheless has his priorities straight. After being separated from his family by Hurricane Katrina, Lewis, who’s from New Orleans, has recognized and is taking full advantage of his second chance. This is as it should be, and I applaud his devotion, because, until I married She Who Endures My Myriad Eccentricities, it’s something I never knew.
I never wanted to have children. Call it part selfishness and part fear of subjecting my own children to the agony and anguish that I perceived to have been part of my own childhood. The consequence of my decision is that I have no one in my life I can call “son”, whom I can love and watch grow into their life. No one will ever call me “Dad”. Sure, I love Adam and Eric something fierce, and I regard them as sons in every sense of the word, but I will never, and should never, replace their own father. This is the essential quandary of being a stepfather when you live with the custodial parent: you have all of the responsibilities of a full-time parent, but it’s never recognized as such. I’m glad that my stepchildren still have a relationship with their father, and I hope that will continue to be the case. The bond between father and son is one that should be maintained and strengthened throughout life, because, as I’m beginning to realize now, one’s father will not be around forever. As far as my own stepchildren go, I’m grateful to have been accepted as part of their lives. That means more to mean that I will likely ever be able to find the words to fully and adequately express.
Father’s Day has always been an unusual and not particularly enjoyable day for me. I come from a family that has never been particularly close, and for years I had no contact with my parents. That has begun to change over the past few years, but they live in Wisconsin and I’m in Texas, so while I might talk to Mom and Dad every so often, there is no closeness in our conversations. The sad thing is that I’m basically OK with that. I don’t want to create the impression that my parents were or are bad people, because nothing could be farther from the truth. Still, while I don’t want to break contact with them, neither do I have any great desire to be particularly close with them or to be an integral part of their lives.
My father had a stroke in 1991, and his health has begun to deteriorate of late, which puts me in a bit of a dilemma. I want to be a good and supportive son (as the oldest, it’s hard not to feel that obligation), but I’m too far away to really be of any assistance. I know my father will not be around forever, but I also feel no need to try and rebuild a relationship that was really never there to begin with. I’ve long since forgiven Dad for any real or perceived transgressions (hey, than man’s human, just like me), but I don’t feel any need or desire to reconnect. Besides biology, I’m not sure we really have anything in common.
I wonder sometimes if my lingering desire for distance from my parents is because of things that actually happened or memories that I’ve created around things I’ve blown out of proportion. I’ve managed to forget most of my childhood, and I don’t trust my memories of the things I do remember. One thing I am clear about is that my father and I were never very close, and I harbored a great deal of resentment toward him for a long time.
My relationship- or lack thereof- with my father and the anger and resentment I harbored towards him are the single biggest reasons I never had children of my own. I could never find it within myself to believe that I had the wherewithal to be a good and committed father. I’m not saying my father wasn’t, but my memories are not pleasant or positive. Because of that, I was terrified of raising children who saw me as distant, judgemental, and unsupportive. I couldn’t bear the thought of possibly repeating the mistakes, whether real or perceived, of my own father.
The end result is that I denied myself the opportunity to prove to myself that I could be a good and loving father. I don’t know what Adam and Eric think of me, though our relationship is very positive and I am proud to be a part of their lives. I love them dearly and I believe that it’s likely they feel the same way. That sustains me in ways I cannot begin to express, because it is something I will never experience from children of my own.
I do wonder as I get older what I’ve denied myself. Yes, I made choices earlier in life that really weren’t compatible with raising children. It’s tough to raise children when you’re working and travelling in war zones. Those were my choices, and I don’t regret them, because I wouldn’t be who I am without them. Still, I wonder….
Whoever said that you really CAN have it all had no idea what the Hell they were talking about. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is ultimately about decisions and consequences. I’ve made choices, and I’ve learned to live with the consequences. Thus is a life constructed. Still, I wonder….
“A lot of times, we push our kids off to the side because they don’t even know what they’re talking about, but now I take a second chance to listen,” Lewis said. “I don’t care if it’s about a peanut butter sandwich. I’m going to sit and listen to my daughter explain to me why she made it that way, because tomorrow anything could happen.”
Lewis, who today will celebrate his first Father’s Day since Katrina, hardly feels like a man nearly one year removed from losing all of his possessions. Instead, he’s more aware than ever that his kids mean everything.
“I used to think I had to take them to the movies or to Chuck E. Cheese’s and spend all this money to make them happy,” Lewis said. “No, you don’t. Just time. The same time my daddy didn’t spend with me is the time I try to spend with them.”
For those of you celebrating Fathers Day with your own father or your children today, I hope that you will take a moment to savor what you have and take stock of your blessings. Not all of us are so fortunate.
