The birth of Conner has been a special day for me as a father because today I held my boy, my son. As I write this journal entry in the silence of our hospital room late at night, I got an unexpected lump in my throat. In the privacy of my thoughts I found myself regressing to my own childhood and thus my own wounding. It amazed me how in spite of the fact that I am a grown man with a Master’s degree in counseling and have experienced great success in bringing healing and hope to the patients God places under my therapeutic care who have experienced wounding in their lives, that holding my son in my arms rubbed against a still tender soul wound in my life – my own father hunger.

“Why would my father walk away from my life?” I asked myself as I looked into Conner’s eyes. Immediately I wished I could take those thoughts back because I knew that giving them a voice would be like scraping off a scab and pouring peroxide on it. It would fizz and foam and in a very uncomfortable way remind me that portions of my life remain tender and fresh.

Because Conner looks so much like I did as a new born, I couldn’t help but put myself in my own father’s shoes. I tried to imagine what he must have felt when he held me, what he must of thought about me, what he must of hoped for my life. Although I was able to imagine the moment I thought it was interesting that my mind would not allow me to produce any specific details, thoughts or feelings. The experience felt empty and void of personal touch.

My eyes became watery and the lump on my throat became more determined in denying me to swallow. The truth is that my father walked away from my life when I was just a few months old. I’m sure that much like Conner, I learned to recognize my father’s voice, his breath and his cologne, as a result, I dislike admitting that I spent many years of my life looking and longing to reconnect with my father.
Because I have made significant progress in my life accepting the cards life dealt me and have learned to parent myself while allowing key men and mentors in my life to influence the development of my manhood; today Conner and I write the first sentence of his life together. And unlike my father, I am committed to play an influential and active role in his life’s chapters.

Tonight, I know my thoughts regarding Conner. I know the emotions I experience when I hold him close to my chest. I know the prayers I have already spoken and the hopes I hold my heart. Today, I will make the first few steps in rectifying the generational abandonment that permeates my genealogy for the last three generations. Today, Conner and I become father and son, friends and partners. So while I grieve that for whatever reason, my father had it in him to walk away and never look back, I also celebrate the fact that I am a different dad.

Cesar G. Gamez, MA