This post is my contribution to ThePerfectGiftforMan project: Stories Told From The Heart project organised by Mark Pollard and Gavin Heaton.  The aim is to collect stories told by men that show how that it is possible to share, honestly, the intense emotions and experiences of “becoming a man”. The stories will be complied into a book and 100% of the proceeds will go to The Inspire Foundation. Mark and Gavin are looking for a diverse range of stories - if you are interested in participating, more details here. 

Photo 1: Dad, sometime in the early 80's when he arrived in Japan

Photo 2: Dad and I at a local Japanese parade in Kagoshima, Japan.  I must have been about eight months old in this photo.

Dear Dad,

This is confronting. But I owe it to you, and myself, to write it.

I wonder what you are doing right now.  What your day-to-day routine is like?  I know you are a university professor, but I still have no idea what exactly you do.  Of course, I could pick up the phone, but we know where that leads. That awkward and forced conversation followed by ‘I have to go’, which afterwards leaves me with this uncanny sense of rejection. Resentment. Disappointment.

Remember, the last time I visited you in Japan? Was it two or three years ago now?  It ended messy, as per usual. I lasted a week , didn’t I?  I ran off to go my grandmother’s house in southern Japan, before returning back to Shanghai where I was living at the time.  Since then, I have buried the angry and frustration, deep within the dormant recesses of my mind. It is easier to leave things than confront them. Easier, however, not does necessarily mean better.  

Every kid whose parents are divorced experiences similar issues. Which one loves me more? Which parent is more like me? Who am I?   I always felt like I had two families to deal with: Mum’s side and yours. Since you were half way across the world, divided by distance, age, and culture, I remember, as a teenager, trying so hard to bridge that gap. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to admire you, not constantly be disappointed. I wanted a Dad.

I wish I understood you. I tried on countless occasions:  to forgive, to forget, to get close to you; but, alas, it seemed like I always hit a brick wall and I eventually just gave up.

I wish you understood me. You know plenty about me, yeah; but, I feel like you only know the filtered version. Phone calls and trips to Japan cannot fill the void. 

I wish you had seen me grow up. Sure, I saw you intermittently over the years, but that is different. Time is irreplaceable, a non-renewable resource. Experiences become memories. Memories play such a significant part in building our character.  It fills me with this peculiar sadness to think how much of my character -  is not you.

In the journey through manhood, we typically ask our fathers for guidance, to aid us in our challenges, to share their wisdom as we transition from boy to man.  The great paradox is that in your absence, in my unfulfilled attempts to get guidance from you, I have learnt a lot about what is to become a man.

Lesson 1: Accept what is, is.

• When you are a boy, you are influenced by your surroundings.  You are reliant on your parents and often don’t have a choice in a lot of matters. You need guidance: sometimes you get it, other times you don’t. As you grow up though, you eventually reach a crossroad where you get to decide. The ball is thrown in your court. You can either accept your past - or not.  Life happens.  So Dad, sure, our relationship was rocky, but we had good times nevertheless.  A lot of my positive qualities are your influence: my inability to hide my emotions, my optimism, my intelligence. You have been supportive, understanding and kind, even if you couldn’t show it the way I liked. I have a father. I am lucky: some people don’t even get that.

Lesson 2: Step into someone’s shoes. Have empathy.

• When you are a boy, you retain a degree of egocentricity. Without control, you become the victim.  When you are man, you move beyond and retain a self-awareness that allows you to look through someone’s shoes. Dad, I am sorry I could not understand your perspective. It must have been hard having a son live so far away. A son who you didn’t get to see grow up. A son who harboured ill feelings, when all you tried to do was make amends.  I know you suffered from the same abandonment issues with your father, and so it is bitterly ironic, that the cycle repeated with us. You get nervous when you talk with me on phone, I know, so don’t feel guilty if you don’t call. Talking is over-rated, anyway.

Lesson 3: Rise above your ego dramas and align with your true self.

• Harbouring angry is futile. Negativity does nothing for you – your ego feeds off it.  Dad, perhaps I will never understand you. Maybe you will never understand me.  There is no rewind button in life– I cannot insert you into the past. But, alas, I have stopped holding onto those ill feelings: rejection, resentment, disappointment. In every human’s quest for self-realisation, we must rise above and beyond such piety things. I know how much you adore the Beatles Dad, so I will put it in their words, “All you need is love.” Everyone in Japan keeps reminding me how proud you are, how much you talk about me. What validation am I looking for? I finally realise, now at age 25, that sometimes the truth does not need to be spoken. Love is all that matters. Everything else is secondary.
  

 We have had a strange relationship, you and me. But life is, like, that: unpredictable, mysterious - and strange.  It actually makes me laugh  thinking how bizarre, comical,  the whole thing is. The great fallacy of our era is that we humans think we have control over ourlives. But you don’t sometimes. You just have to let it flow and allow the Tao to do its thing.

I doubt you will ever read this letter, but if you happen to stumble across this book, for what it is worth, Happy Father’s Day.

I love you mate.

Eddie