Honouring the father of my children on Fathers day
It Father’s day this Sunday. I want to honour my own children’s father...
We have been married for nearly 26 years now and have two lovely children of 21 and 17. When I married him I know he was a very good person – but not quite how very amazing he turned out to be...
We have been so lucky in many ways. Our children are both healthy, bright, interested people with passion. We have both always been able to study and work in ways we love. And when they were small I was able to be full time with them as well as, at times, to do some work when they were asleep. (Yes it did mean that we had to give up some luxuries). Being so solidly middle class we have all our basic needs and many ‘wants’ met too. (Growing up white in Apartheid SA gave us privileges as well of course – as well as some rather traumatic experiences because we in non-violent ways worked against that cruel inhuman thing).
My husband gave both our babies their first baths and we had to share that very desirable task very rigidly (no I really could not let him be the only bath giver – it was much too much fun to do.) We even fought over nappy changes at first – not not to do them but to do them!
He worked hard but always made time for the kids. That moment when they heard his key in the door and they raced into his arms was proof of that. And as both kids were very early risers (like my husband) he would always give me an extra hours sleep in the morning while he took that early morning playtime – which both still remember with great fondness. (And me with gratitude). And weekends were completely for family and he was always full of ideas of stuff to do. Kite flying, crab fishing, picnics, short hikes in lovely places, museums, bike rides, caves, feeding ducks, splashing in muddy puddles, collecting rocks...
But his real mettle showed when he accompanied me through the pain and sadness of 3 miscarriages between the births my children.
And then even a greater challenge that will remain one all the rest of our lives. I was driving my children back from a visit to my mom in the Eastern Cape and just outside Smithfield a large articulated truck passed another huge truck on a blind rise and smashed very solidly into us.
My husband rushed to Bloemfontein where we were hospitalised. He went from ICU bed to ICU bed. (My mom and sister also came). My daughter was unconscious. He spent hours talking and singing to her (he has a lovely voice) for those two terrifying days and would visit me and took my frenzied admonitions to leave me and go back to the children with the adultness he never seems to lose. My son he kept contained, and seemed to just manage to help him cope with the trauma of his own injuries, his fear of his sisters and mothers death.
Then he supported us all through those months and months and years of getting better. Both my daughter and I must live still with some of our injuries 6 years later and will always. But he is still there, still being a grown-up and despite having to sometimes take more than his fair share of parental and home duties he just gets on with it.
And still we and the world brings him challenges and still he gets on with it...
Ethical, loving, tolerant, clear thinking, patient, non-judgmental and just such a real grown up man and father...
Thank-you sweetheart! We all love you so very much.