By the time I was ten, I was
totally ashamed of my father. All my friends called him names: Quasi-Moto,
hunchback, monster, little Frankenstein, the crooked little man with the
crooked little cane. At first it hurt when they called him those things, but
soon I found myself agreeing with them. He was ugly, and I knew it!
My father was born with something
called parastremmatic dwarfism. The disease made him stop growing when he was
about thirteen and caused his body to twist and turn into a grotesque shape. It
wasn’t too bad when he was a kid. I saw pictures of him when he was about my
age. He was a little short but quite good-looking. Even when he met my mother
and married her when he was nineteen, he still looked pretty normal. He was
still short and walked with a slight limp, but he was able to do just about
anything. Mother said, ‘He even used to be a great dancer.’
Soon after my birth, things
started getting worse. Another genetic disorder took over, and his left foot
started turning out, almost backward. His head and neck shifted over to the
right; his neck became rigid and he had to look over his left shoulder a bit.
His right arm curled in and up, and his index finger almost touched his elbow.
His spine warped to look something like a big, old rollercoaster and it caused
his torso to lie sideways instead of straight up and down like a normal person.
His walk became low, awkward, and deliberate. He had to almost drag his left
foot as he used his deformed right arm to balance his gait.
I hated to be seen with him.
Everyone stared. They seemed to pity me. I knew he must have done something
really bad to have God hate him that much. By the time I was seventeen, I was
blaming all my problems on my father. I didn’t have the right boyfriends
because of him. I didn’t drive the right car because of him. I wasn’t pretty
enough because of him. I didn’t have the right jobs because of him. I wasn’t
happy because of him.
Anything that was wrong with me,
or my life, was because of him. If my father had been good-looking like Jane’s
father, or successful like Paul’s father, or worldly like Terry’s father, I
would be perfect! I knew that for sure.
The night of my senior prom came,
and Father had to place one more nail in my coffin; he had volunteered to be
one of the chaperones at the dance.
My heart just sank when he told
me. I stormed into my room, slammed the door, threw myself on the bed, and
cried. ‘Three more weeks and I’ll be out of here!’ I screamed into my pillow.
‘Three more weeks and I will have graduated and be moving away to college.’ I sat
up and took a deep breath.
‘God, please make my father go
away and leave me alone. He keeps sticking his big nose in everything I do.
Just make him disappear, so that I can have a good time at the dance.’
I got dressed, my date picked me
up, and we went to the prom. Father followed in his car behind us. When we
arrived, Father seemed to vanish into the pink chiffon drapes that hung everywhere
in the auditorium. I thanked God that He had heard my prayer. At least now I
could have some fun.
Midway through the dance, Father
came out from behind the drapes and decided to embarrass me again. He started
dancing with my girlfriends. One by one, he took their hand and led them to the
dance floor. He then clumsily moved them in circles as the band played. Now I
tried to vanish into the drapes.
After Jane had danced with him,
she headed my way. Oh, no! I thought. She’s going to tell me he stomped on her
foot or something.
‘Grace,’ she called, ‘you have the
greatest father.’
My face fell. ‘What?’
She smiled at me and grabbed my
shoulders. ‘Your father’s just the best. He’s funny, kind, and always finds the
time to be where you need him. I wish my father was more like that.’
For one of the first times in my
life, I couldn’t talk. Her words confused me.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked her.
Jane looked at me really
strangely. ‘What do you mean, what do I mean? Your father’s wonderful. I
remember when we were kids, and I’d sleep over at your house. He’d always come
into your room, sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and read us a
book. I’m not sure my father can even read,’ she sighed, and then smiled.
‘Thanks for sharing him.’
Then, Jane ran off to dance with
her boyfriend. I stood there in silence.
A few minutes later, Paul came to
stand beside me.
‘He’s sure having a lot of fun.’
‘What? Who? Who is having a lot of
fun?’ I asked.
‘Your father. He’s having a ball.
‘Yeah. I guess.’ I didn’t know
what else to say.
‘You know, he’s always been
there,’ Paul said. ‘I remember when you and I were on the mixed-doubles soccer
team. He tried out as the coach, but he couldn’t run up and down the field, remember?
So they picked Jackie’s father instead. That didn’t stop him. He showed up for
every game and did whatever needed to be done. He was the team’s biggest fan. I
think he’s the reason we won so many games. Without him, it just would have
been Jackie’s father running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father
made it fun. I wish my father had been able to show up to at least one of our games.
He was always too busy.’
Paul’s girlfriend came out of the
restroom, and he went to her side, leaving me once again speechless.
My boyfriend came back with two
glasses of punch and handed me one. ‘Well, what do you think of my father?’ I
asked out of the blue.
Terry looked surprised. ‘I like
him. I always have.’
‘Then why did you call him names
when we were kids?’
‘I don’t know. Because he was different,
and I was a dumb kid.’
‘When did you stop calling him
names?’ I asked, trying to search my own memory.
Terry didn’t even have to think
about the answer. ‘The day he sat down with me outside by the pool and held me
while I cried about my mother and father’s divorce. No one else would let me
talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He cried with me that
day. I thought you knew.’
I looked at Terry and a tear
rolled down my cheek as long-forgotten memories started cascading into my
consciousness.
When I was three, my puppy got
killed by another dog, and my father was there to hold me and teach me what
happens when the pets we love die.
When I was five, my father took me
to my first day of school. I was so scared. So was he. We cried and held each
other that first day. The next day he became teacher’s helper. When I was
eight, I just couldn’t do math. Father sat down with me night after night, and
we worked on math problems until math became easy for me. When I was ten, my
father bought me a brand-new bike. When it was stolen, because I didn’t lock it
up like I was taught to do, my father gave me jobs to do around the house so I
could make enough money to purchase another one. When I was thirteen and my
first love broke up with me, my father was there to yell at, to blame, and to
cry with. When I was fifteen and I got to be in the honor society, my father
was there to see me get the accolade. Now, when I was seventeen, he put up with
me no matter how nasty I became or how high my hormones raged.
As I looked at my father dancing
gaily with my friends, a big toothy grin on his face, I suddenly saw him
differently. The handicaps weren’t his, they were mine! I had spent a great
deal of my life hating the man who loved me. I had hated the exterior that I
saw, and I had ignored the interior that contained his God-given heart. I
suddenly felt very ashamed.
I asked Terry to take me home, too
overcome with feelings to remain.
On graduation day, at my Christian
high school, my name was called, and I stood behind the podium as the
valedictorian of my class. As I looked out over the people in the audience, my
gaze rested on my father in the front row sitting next to my mother. He sat
there, in his one and only, specially made suit, holding my mother’s hand and
smiling.
Overcome with emotions, my
prepared speech was to become a landmark in my life.
‘Today I stand here as an honor
student, able to graduate with a 4.0 average. Yes, I was in the honor society
for three years and was elected class president for the last two years. I led
our school to championship in the debate club, and yes, I even won a full
scholarship to KentonStateUniversity so that I can continue to study physics
and someday become a college professor.
‘What I’m here to tell you today,
fellow graduates, is that I didn’t do it alone. God was there, and I had a
whole bunch of friends, teachers, and counselors who helped. Up until three
weeks ago, I thought they were the only ones I would be thanking this evening.
If I had thanked just them, I would have been leaving out the most important person
in my life. My father.’
I looked down at my father and at
the look of complete shock that covered his face.
I stepped out from behind the
podium and motioned for my father to join me onstage. He made his way slowly,
awkwardly, and deliberately. He had to drag his left foot up the stairs as he
used his deformed right arm to balance his gait. As he stood next to me at the
podium, I took his small, crippled hand in mine and held it tight.
‘Sometimes we only see the
silhouette of the people around us,’ I said. ‘For years I was as shallow as the
silhouettes I saw. For almost my entire life, I saw my father as someone to
make fun of, someone to blame, and someone to be ashamed of. He wasn’t perfect,
like the fathers my friends had.
‘Well, fellow graduates, what I
found out three weeks ago is that while I was envying my friends’ fathers, my
friends were envying mine. That realization hit me hard and made me look at who
I was and what I had become. I was brought up to pray to God and hold high
principles for others and myself. What I’ve done most of my life is read
between the lines of the Good Book so I could justify my hatred.’
Then, I turned to look my father
in the face.
‘Father, I owe you a big apology.
I based my love for you on what I saw and not what I felt. I forgot to look at
the one part of you that meant the most, the big, big heart God gave you. As I
move out of high school and into life, I want you to know I could not have had
a better father. You were always there for me, and no matter how badly I hurt
you, you still showed up. Thank you!’
I took off my mortar board and
placed it on his head, moving the tassel just so.
‘You are the reason I am standing
here today. You deserve this honor, not me.’
And as the audience applauded and
cried with us, I felt God’s light shining down upon me as I embraced my father
more warmly than I ever had before, tears unashamedly falling down both our
faces.
For the first time, I saw my
father through God’s eyes, and I felt honored to be seen with him.
