The Best of My Fathers

You never really know how powerful you are until you become a father. It's simultaneously frightening and wonderful when you consider the sheer magnitude of the role. I take nothing away from mothers, but, considering the fact that this is Father's Day weekend, the only Holiday that actually puts a spotlight on men, I will focus solely on what it is to be a father. It wasn't until I lost my own father over a decade ago did I realize how important he was to me. However, it wasn't until I became a father did I realize how much I missed. I often think to myself how much he would have loved his grandchildren and how much they would have loved him. I was a most fortunate child. When one considers the fact that you can neither choose your parents or the conditions for which you are placed on this earth, I am surely blessed. According to every headline, statistic, and newsreel, my life is a miracle.

My fortune, my greatest gift, has indeed been my mother. From there everything fell into place. From her I never saw or heard of the impossible, all things were possible. From her I learned early, of the flaws of human nature, and that sometimes, even often, those whom we trust the most can cause us the deepest hurt. From her I learned to forgive my father before I even knew of his offense. Never did I hear an unkind word about him. Never did an unkind word come from her lips against me. Love and truth were in abundance. This is how I found salvation. "God is your father," imagine a four year old hearing that?"People will fail, even me..." imagine a four year old hearing that?! She never once sought to make light of my passage into this life. "This is not the ideal...this was not God's plan and it was certainly not mine...but, you are not a mistake." So as you can imagine, for me this lady was a living Superwoman. I can appreciate how easy it is to deify women. You carry so much. However, my mother was quick to let my brother and I know, she was no man. "I am not your father(s)...there are things I can never, ever give you...questions I will never be able to answer." Thus, the realization of my handicap. Who was going to navigate my way toward manhood?

But, alas, for reasons I cannot explain, God gave me grace. I was blessed with a variety of upstanding surrogates. Men like my Godfather, Joseph Wigfall, himself an artist and a man of deep principle, the late -great Dr. Walter J. Turnbull,* who literally made it his life's work to guide boys along the treacherous road toward manhood, my uncle, the late-great Willie Ben Iverson, who overcame a youth saddled with hatred toward his own father to become our family patriarch and a beacon of hope for countless men and boys in his community, my older brother, the Rev. David Sterling, who did his very best to teach me all that he knew, despite his own challenges, and a whole host of marvelous men of every age and every hue, who cared enough about me to give me their ear, their wisdom, their time, and their love.

My father, though a cameo performer in my life, was still significant. Every time I was with him it mattered. I felt complete in his presence. Our time, though sporadic, was meaningful. However, our last moments as I later realized would arguably be the most sacred moment of my entire life. It was, Thursday, March 25, 1999. We were parked in his car across the street from my barbershop in Harlem. This is symbolic, because as most Black men will agree, for us, the barbershop is the most liberating place on earth. The only place, aside from our own homes where we can take off the social mask and be ourselves, unjudged and unfiltered. It's the place which we are fully understood, accepted, and affirmed. Moreover, the barbershop has also acted as a safe haven for many a black boy seeking to absorb any remnant of manhood that could be found. Various generations and experiences congregating in one space, issuing sweet and essential nuggets of wisdom, coupled with often hard, yet, necessary clusters of truth, all the while grooming you to face the world for yet another week. It was there my father and I sat, in front of the place which played substitute to him on many occasions.

He had been anxious to see me for over a month. My life during this time had gone into overdrive. I was overwhelmed by new found success and I wasn't necessarily the most pleasant person to be around. We had agreed to meet at 1pm at my mother's apartment. She made us lunch, we ate, and headed to the barbershop. He eased into why he needed to see me. Being the proud Caribbean* that he was, he immediately let me know that it was "'your mother's idea' that we spend more time together." He gave me some much needed advice about handling my money, keeping in touch with those closest to me and in his broken, yet, sincere manner he began to explain himself. He revealed the hatred he harbored for his own father and how in many ways that hatred caused him to become the very man he hated. Like him, his father was unable to live faithfully with the wife of his youth (or any woman for that matter), like him, his father was abused, and like him, his father was abandoned. He told me how he had to learn to forgive his father, and in his own broken and sincere way hoped I would do the same for him. My heart wept. All this time and he hadn't known how much I loved him. He hadn't known that I'd forgiven him long ago. Indeed, "our doubts are traitors to things we oft might win, by fearing to attempt."* No child wants their father to be Superman, he just needs him to be. For I had learned that no one, not even a child, has the right to exalt another human being beyond their own capacity.

Suddenly, it happened in just a few words. He said the very thing that has stayed with me for over a decade. The words that haunt, yet, inspire me whenever my humanity and the sins of my fathers threaten to overcome me... "you have to be a better man than me." Struggling against his pride, I could hear a restrained yearning in his voice when he said it: "you have to be a better man than me." With those words he had given me a father's greatest gift, validation. A father's validation or approval can never, ever be underestimated. Those words and the manner in which he said them made it clear to me that despite himself, he had the utmost confidence in me to end the very cycle which had ravaged our family for decades. Despite himself, he figuratively laid his hands on me, as the patriarchs of old and gave me his blessing. Perhaps one might think it unfair to issue such a responsibility without having equipped the recipient. However, if truth be told, it is neither a question of what is fair? or how this is to be done? But, rather an act of faith on the part of the one giving the blessing. Certainly, he could not see nor predict the kind of man I would become. But, I am convinced that he saw in me the best of himself, and that I indeed possessed the capacity to exceed him and our fathers. Thus, he believed in me and when your father believes in you, nothing is impossible. Alas, I was the son in whom he was well pleased. Alas, I was whole.

Sometime during the afternoon of Friday, March 26th he was gone from this world. This was without a doubt the most traumatic period of my life. Yet, in the midst of my sorrow, I found myself grateful to God for having equipped me with the love needed to forgive and understand my father for who he was. I was grateful because through love, I was equipped to accept my father's greatest gift to me, and it is through that love that I am able to allow the best of my fathers to live through me. I sometimes ponder who I would be had I allowed myself to be consumed by the sting of my father's absence? I shudder from the very thought.

Today, with my beloved children, his grandchildren, I am everything I so desired him to be and I know he would be proud. Among the greatest joys of my life is that my children actually take my presence in their lives for granted. They simply believe in me. What a remarkable responsibility? Ideally my hope is that I leave my children a good name and an honorable heritage. But, above all else, I pray they know now and all the days of their precious lives, that despite my humanity, I believe in them and that I am well pleased.

"When the sins of our fathers visit us
We do not have to play host.
We can banish them with forgiveness
As God, in His Largeness and Laws."

August Wilson

*Founder, The Boys Choir of Harlem
* Trinidad-Tobago
*From Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare

Copyright 2009 Johnathan L. Iverson Baptiste