Some of you may not know my friend, Kathy Handley. She is an amazing person with a gift to shoot from the hip and write from the heart. Below is note she wrote and I felt compelled to share this with all of you. PS - if you want to copy and paste this please feel free to do so, but I ask that you give Kathy credit as the author of this piece.
I have a complicated relationship with my father, like I do with a lot of people (perhaps the problem is me... but naaaaaah). Still, one of the smartest pieces of wisdom that's ever been imparted to me came from my dad, during a conversation that encompassed a lot of other topics I'd really rather not have been privy to (oversharing is a Handley genetic trait, apparently). My friend Caryn once said something like, "Every one of my sisters [and this girl has a lot of sisters--seriously] has heard what Kathy's dad says about relationships." (This is only fair, because all of Kathy's friends have heard what Caryn's dad said about life in general: "joke 'em if they can't take a fuck.") Anyway: In the midst of a serious conversation when I was, frankly, far too young to be needing to have such serious conversations, my father said, "The thing is, no one ever knows what goes on in a relationship except the two people in it."
Think about that. Really, honestly think about that and what it really means--and then think about your life, your relationships, the people you know, and how much you judge them every day for things you really can't understand. We all do it. We can all aspire not to.
Life is kind of a crapshoot. You win some, you lose some, you can never know ahead of time how anything's going to go. But you're never going to win by refusing to play. I had a friend tell me once, "I'm pretty sure you're more likely to win the lottery if you never buy a ticket than if you do." Sarcasm, yes, I am familiar--another genetic gift from Dad. But all the same--not so much. You have to play to win.
I've always been the kind of girl who has a million male friends, and I've always been the kind of girl who has a million love interests, too (except, oddly, for right at this moment, which--throw me a bone here, people. Cripe, that sounds filthy. Never mind.) It would seem that for some reason I don't understand, I am a totally likeable person. Maybe it's because I've worked so hard for so long at stamping out that automatic judgment instinct we're all born with; maybe it's because I'm funny and I wear v-necks that show off my cleavage and I can turn the most innocent statements into innuendo. I'll never know. But I do know this.
Life is difficult and challenging and you often don't get a say in when big things are going to happen to you, or what those big things will be. But those of you who've chosen to be dads--not just fathers; you don't usually get to choose that--are remarkable. Every man who's stepped up and parented his children, who's changed a diaper, who's gotten up at three in the morning, who's scheduled his weekends and his finances and his life around the kids he's helped bring into the world--you're really remarkable.
You're the reason the deadbeat dad stereotype makes me angry. You're the reason I believe our court system is entirely fucked. You're the reason your daughters will grow up to love and marry decent, honorable men. You're the reason your kids like taking things apart and making messes and learning from their mistakes. You're the reason we all learn a sense of shame, because nothing in the world feels worse than hearing your dad say, "I'm disappointed in you" or "I'm not angry; I'm hurt." You're the reason your little girls don't grow up to be strippers or drug addicts. Thank you. Thank you for loving your kids, no matter how they came about.
And this is your weekend. You should be allowed to sleep in, watch whatever tolerable sports you can find on TV, drink beer till your stomachs hurt and you fall into feverish slumbers on the couch, chicken wings and BBQ scattered all around you. You deserve that.
But I know you'd rather spend the weekend with your kids, teaching them something, showing them something, letting them wrestle with you and make messes and pull the dog's tail. I know you'll remember the day your 4-year-old crayoned all over the fridge with more fondness than you'd ever remember the day you took a bloated nap on the couch. You all tell me every day exactly how much you love your kids.
Thank you. Thank you for stepping up, for being there, for being someone's Daddy.
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