After his musician father, left, Johnny Pharr was torn between his newfound passion for music and the fear he would turn into a man he would never understand.
—
My father couldn’t grasp what it meant to be a father. He left our little family without the realization of the impact on his children’s growth. He wasn’t there to teach me how to be a man, and he wasn’t there to teach me how to be a child. I often wonder what he thought of as he parented me and my brother for his short duration of domestic bliss.
Then he was gone.
While he was away doing whatever it was he was doing, my mother had to step up and fill the role of both parents.
My mother may not have had the aptitude to teach me how to throw a fastball, or catch a screen pass from the quarterback, but what I learned from her was more valuable than anything anyone else could have taught me. A nurturer who genuinely loved people, my mother ensured I grew up with the attributes not to hate and to always forgive. I know these teachings may have been considered sensitive, or effeminate, especially considering the times, but I had no other measuring stick to stack against what I learned from mom.
As I got older and became interested in music, sports and the opposite sex, I started to fixate on the question: if I pursue my love for music will I become the man my father was? I’ve carried this weight my entire life. Despite my fears, I ended up becoming a musician, playing my guitar for hours and hours a day until my fingers bled. Still the hurt on my mother’s face was hard for her to hide. Every time I picked up my guitar, she would tell me to go in the other room, or not to play so loud. I get it now, she had to detour me from my father’s course. What she didn’t understand…the guitar was my getaway. Maybe only musicians appreciate that point. My guitar gave me a voice to express what I was afraid to say.
Unfortunately, I’ve never had children of my own because I was always fearful of becoming my father, that I would fail them in unbearable ways. Now that I’m in my 40’s, my regret at remaining childless haunts me. I missed out on teaching and molding wonderful little humans.
Even though my father wasn’t there he still impacted my life. And I think this is true for children whose parents have abandoned them. In many ways, it is as if the man himself never exited. The influence, the legacy, whether positive, or negative stays. I gained genetic qualities from my father that make me who I am today, but I am forever grateful to my mother for shaping me into a humanist and a loving person. And that far outweighs any DNA content. My mom taught me to be good, she didn’t give me exercises on which to focus or achieve, she simply taught me to be good and be kind. Because she knew it was important, a life lesson I could carry with me wherever I went.
I know my father couldn’t imagine the amount of love overflowing a parent’s heart. But I’m kind of oover it. Instead, I pour my attention into my wonderful girlfriend and her 13-year old son. We do a lot of family-style activities and I catch myself in moments where I’m sharing knowledge with her son…and he is learning! From me! The feeling, It’s immeasurable. I might have an idea of the pride that blows up any man, or father when I see him amazed at his own accomplishments.
Thank you, mom for loving your children and teaching your boys what it means to be men.
—
Unedited Photo: Flickr/JD Hancock