Acacia Morris
It’s a special day. It’s January 7th,
2003, and a young child is sitting on a ratty couch in a small apartment in
Albany. The state of the couch or the size of the apartment isn’t of much
importance, however; today is the child’s birthday, and something exciting is
going to happen. The child’s mother enters the room with a telephone in hand,
passing it over before slipping back into the other room with the much awaited
birthday cake. After a few mewled hellos are murmured into the phone, a heavily
accented voice comes from the speaker. The conversation is muddy and
disorganized due to a simple fact; its participants are strangers. The voice in
the phone says a goodbye, and the child hands the phone back to the mother
without much ceremony. The smell of cake and a mother’s call are welcoming, but
the six year old can’t help but feel lonely.
As statistics go, one in three
doesn’t seem like a very lonely number. It’s nowhere near astronomical odds,
and it makes pretty good television if you hide a prize behind that one.
However, the statistic that applies to that one person out of three isn’t
lucky, and it certainly is lonely. In the United States, one out of three
children lives without their biological father. It’s sobering, I’m aware. To
some, it may even seem ridiculous. To me, it seems just right, if not a bit
understated. I have lived my entire life without my father. That small child
was me, on my sixth birthday, experiencing the only direct contact I’ve ever
had with him. I’ve glimpsed his face in a photograph or two, but as physical
appearances go, he’s done as well as the invisible man.
It’s very easy to allow anger to
come from these sorts of experiences. I’ve experienced many emotions over the
years, and the majority of them have been negative. However, I feel as if there
is room to grow from every experience, good or bad. If the statistic holds
true, then one out of every three people reading this article doesn’t live with
their biological father. This can be due to abandonment, military service,
death, or simple absence. Whatever the case, I want to say something to the one
in three.
If you have a father figure in your
life, whether it is a step-father, an older brother, an uncle, or other
individual, and they have positively impacted you, know that you are stronger
for it. You have a role model, someone who stepped up in the life of someone
else. If you don’t have someone like that, then know you are still stronger for
it. Every achievement has come with just that extra amount of push that other
people may have had that you don’t. These strengths don’t only reach into the
realm of parenthood. Maybe you’ve learned to help out those who really need it,
or you’ve learned to never give up.
As the holiday season comes to its
climax, know that even if your family structure doesn’t match the one on the
Hallmark Christmas card, that you are not poorer for it. If you are the one in
three, think back on your accomplishments during the past year, and wonder
about what you can do even better next year. For the two in three that I’ve
neglected, know that nowadays, there is no familial norm. For all three people
who read this article, know that a lesson can be learned from every experience,
for better or for worse, and to always help others when you can.
