No Father’s Day Memories
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Without ever knowing my dad, I have no Father’s Day memories to share. But then I began seeing all these Father’s Day posts, and I realized I had a story to tell, as fatherless and empty as it is.
I never met my father. Never even heard his voice on the phone. We never crossed paths in my memory. I would have had to be an infant, less than 6 weeks old. Because at 6 weeks of age, he and my mother sold me to someone, and took off for parts unknown.
Did they leave their children because they just trying to survive themselves? I don’t know. My knowledge of the two of them came only from hushed conversations I heard among family members in my childhood.
A Shadow in a Fatherless Life:
My father is a shadow in my already shadow-filled life. He’s one of those gray areas that has never taken on a shape. For if something doesn’t take shape and is never quite defined, you can’t touch or see it. It is like air. Empty, colorless, and not to be believed or counted on.
I suppose I shall always watch the celebration of children or adults with their fathers with something akin to envy. I’ll watch them and wonder what it would have been like had my father stayed in my life, had he not chosen to leave.
Did he ever look back on that day when he and my mother left me behind? Was there sorrow or a feeling of loss when their arms were empty of their infant baby?
I will never know, as he died long ago when I was in grade school. A relative walked up to me one day in my great-grandmother’s house, leaned down, and whispered, “Your dad died.”
I recall thinking I wasn’t aware I even had a father. It was a question I wondered about from that day forward, because I had never known that he ever existed.
Can You Miss What You Never Had?
You can’t miss what you never had, I suppose, or so they say. But you can certainly feel sadness at what you never got to experience. I have photographs of a distant relative I’ve never met, who found me on Ancestry.com some years ago.
From the photos, I can see that my father was tall and thin. I have peered long and hard into these photographic treasures, looking for myself in his face, his eyes, his smile. I seem to have his dark hair and eyes. His high cheekbones.
I don’t know what led him to do what he did. What faultiness clouded his judgment? There is nothing to remember, and therefore nothing to forget. I suppose I should take solace in that.
For those of you with loving fathers, hug them close and tell them that you love them. If you had a terrible or absent father, then those are your memories to do with as you wish. As an adult, you don’t have to have him in your life. His absence will be just as critical as his presence would have been. It has shaped you either way.
Not knowing your father means you grow up with unanswered questions. You may wonder who you would have been if someone had stood in that space: a steady voice, a hand on your shoulder, a sense of being claimed. There’s often a longing you can’t quite name, because you’re missing something you never had.
Developing Strength Early On:
You may have had to develop strength when relatively young. Some people who grow up without a father become fiercely independent, not because they want to be, but because they had to be. You learn how to carry yourself, how to self-soothe, how to move forward without expecting help.
It can also be grief. There’s no precise moment of loss, no funeral, no permission to mourn—yet the grief exists. You may feel it during milestones, when others talk about “dad advice,” or when you see fathers show up for their children. The sadness can arrive unexpectedly, even years later.
Sometimes it feels like self-doubt. Without that foundational affirmation, you may question your worth, wonder if his absence meant you weren’t enough. Intellectually, you may know that isn’t true, but emotionally, the wound can still ache.
And yet, it can also create a deep tenderness. People who grow up without a father often develop empathy, sensitivity, and an ability to recognize emotional gaps in others. They learn to build chosen family, to find guidance in unexpected places, and to become for themselves what they once needed.
Never having a father is not just about what was missing—it’s about how you learned to live around that missing space. And that story, though painful, is also one of resilience, survival, and fierce strength.
Forgiveness:
I forgive my never-before-seen father, and my mother, too. If I didn’t, I’d have to think about them more, because they would occupy more space in my head. And I don’t want my life to be about all the yesterdays they chose not to spend with me.
I have a deep and abiding feeling that they were not capable of being parents to my five other siblings strewn hither and yon or to me. It’s, of course, sad that we don’t know one another, my siblings and I.
But that was how my parents played it: fast and loose. I know my father wasn’t around all that long, but my mother had one child after another, and they were eventually taken from her. They’re now scattered across many states.
I hope today, my siblings, wherever they may be, realize that what our parents did was not their fault. It was never truly down to their existence, just as it was never down to mine. Though I’m sure, like me, they’ve asked themselves “why” many times.
Especially on days like this, on Father’s Day, when you have no memory of a father to have feelings about. Forgiveness is my way of letting go of the space a father should have filled.
Belated, but … Sincerest hugs to you, Brenda.
I appreciate it when you write about such experiences from the past. It makes the beauty you create in your home and on your blog that much more amazing. In your life, you acknowledge the dark moments but don't let them keep you from seeking the light. You keep your face to the sun just like your flowers do, and it is an inspiration. Thank you.
This is beautifully written, Brenda. Maybe someday, you and your siblings may be able to reunite, if you and they are willing. But then again, you seem to have forgiven them and moved on and maybe that's best for you. HUGS!
Sometimes holidays can be the hardest days of all…just like you said, Father's Day for the fatherless, or for those missing their dads who have passed (my dad passed away 17-1/2 years ago), or for those fathers who have lost their child (my husband). Hugs to you.
Brenda, Have you ever tried to find your siblings, how were you the one that stayed with your grandparents, I think you have mentioned that, did they never come back to see their parents, but look what you became out of all of the things you went through you are a very smart talented person, your a survivor, I pray that the rest of your life will be filled with peace and all the things that might haunt you from the best will not effect your future anymore. I know this is painful to write about, I had a good dad but he has been gone thirty years and I feel like I was cheated also, it's just life and what was handed to us, it's were we go with it, I know something's are painful to write about but these are the stories I love to read on your blog because they are real it's like reading a book I wish one day you would start from the beginning of your life until now and write about it you could probably publish it, you are such a wonderful writer, I had a learning problem in school and some of it I can't get sorted out, how long did you know your Mom. Bless you Brenda!
Brenda,
Your are indeed a special, gracious and forgiving lady…one of the few I know! I lost my Dad when I was just 21 years old…he was the light of my life and I miss him every day…I wish you had someone to call "Dad". Hugs to you Honey!
Brenda, you are indeed the wisest woman I have ever 'known'. Your brilliance truly amazes me and has changed my life in many ways. I have learned the act of forgiveness from you and I thank you for that.
My gosh, you were an adorable baby. Thinking of you…
Gayle
Brenda the posts you write are your best! Iknow today is a sad day for you. It is for me too but in a different way. I did know my dad but I lost him at the age of sixteen. I miss him more as the years go by. I wish you would consider looking for your siblings…just a thought to consider.
Oh, Brenda, I'm so sorry. I know you've had many hurts in your life. Who knows the whys sometime but you've done the best thing – forgive. That is hard to do.
Blessings,
Shelia 😉
I am sorry to hear that you don't have any memories of your dad. If he wasn't a good dad then maybe it's for the best. You were probably spared a lot of heartache then.
So much of life is random. How we handle the cards we are dealt says a lot about our character. You've been dealt more than your fair share of bad hands. Having that many siblings but not knowing any through no fault of your own is tragic.
No of course it was not your fault and forgiveness is the only way to free yourself which you have done, very wisely
I did not have a good relationship with my father at ALL! I was so glad when my parents divorced it wasn't even funny.
Years later I wanted to have closure, do the forgiveness thing, etc. So I contacted him and we had a few get-togethers but it was pretty much the same. While none of the strictness / religious abuse or what-have-you could be present since I was now an adult, it still felt as if the STORK dropped me into the wrong family so we lost contact again.
I was fortunate to have a wonderful grandfather. But the whole father relationship ..no. Not as a child and not when I tried as an adult. So sometimes what you were missing, you'd still be missing and it's best to move on I guess.
Brenda, at my age I still have both of my parents, and I realize how blessed I am to still have them. I am so sorry you have this pain. You are a beautiful person and its your parents loss for not knowing you! I am glad our paths have crossed. Hugs. Sheila
I'm sorry you never met your father, Brenda. My father was an abusive alcoholic. Sometimes I wish I had never known him….but he is gone now and I did forgive him.
You could have had a father and ' that Man' might have raised you, but Never showed You Love…
Was cruel and physically and physiologically abusive…so much so that as an Adult, you are still
Left with Mental Scars…
So even though your father left…as sad and horrible as one can imagine doing that to a child..
It could have been far worse if he had stayed.
Have you tried finding them? My grandmother was adopted along with a sister. My grandmother was almost 99 years old when she found her sister. They were living 26 miles from each other and didn't know it. They did get to meet each other and I really don't know if they visited often or if old age prevented visits. I do enjoy your blog. I have tried to post many times before and it would never let me get through. I'm trying again but I don't expect it to work.
God bless you,Brenda. We never really know the depths of another's pain—even if we have experienced something similar ourselves-for each person processes hurt in a different way. You have done yourself proud by becoming the woman you are today…..
I'm glad you shared this, Brenda, and that you are telling your story. Holidays and days that honor special people are often hard for many. It is good that you are able to realize that your family probably did the best they could have done at the time and that it was never your fault. We all have different stories, but mine wasn't a storybook tale, either. We do our best to forgive and move on. Thanks for your wise words today.
What a lovely heartfelt post.
You are a kind, forgiving woman.
You were a very pretty baby!
Brenda, I'm glad you posted this. Forgiveness is for ourselves not the one's we forgive.
hugs!
So sad that your family was broken and scattered, Brenda. I'll give my dad an extra hug today. Xo