As a single parent of four children, three of them whom are boys, I ask the question, “daddy where are you”? My own biological father was not in my life, but I did have a daddy. My mother married an older man who, being born in the early 1900’s, 1910 to be exact, was old school. I didn’t find out until I was grown with my own child that that particular man was not my real father.
First forward to 2008 as I am raising my four children alone, I have to ask the question, once more, “daddy where are you”? The man who raised me was a real man. Never did he once give it away that he was not my real father. “Daddy where are you?!”
As I go through the daily maze, called my life, I see a lot of women with multiple offspring going through their own mazes. Where are the daddies? The strained, often pained look on their faces as they transport their children to and from the daycare, the schools, the grocery stores, the doctor’s office, the movies (if they can afford it), the front doors of their homes, with roofs barely over their heads, is the same look I’m sure others see upon my face.
As my children are growing up, I feel the sadness come over me sometimes, only when I have time to think about it, of course. I wonder how a human being, with hot, red blood running through their veins and their heart leave behind children whom they helped co-create. Do they even have a heart? They can’t. I can’t imagine a day going by without me hearing my children, even when they get on my last nerve. None of them asked to be here. All of them deserve the love or lust, in which they were created from.
There are a multitude of children being raised by single mothers, doing the best that they can to ensure that their children have the basics of human survival needs. But it’s so unfair that the daddies are missing in action. Yes, we make poor choices in our selection of co-creators, but that still doesn’t justify the fact that a man can just up and leave the scene never to look back again. How do you think it makes our boy children feel to know that daddy doesn’t care enough to be involved in their lives? And as they get older and are around other children with daddies who are present in their lives, I’m sure they ask the question to themselves, “daddy where are you”?
Let’s not even think about our little girls who’ll never be, a daddy’s little girl. It used to be a special thing to be called “daddy’s little girl”, but the daddies aren’t even around to give them that title. Who’s going to protect our girls from the big bad wolves out there? Mommy’s busy trying to ward off her own big, bad wolves in sheep’s clothing.
There aren’t many unselfish men out there willing to step in where they see that a man needs to be, like the man who raised me. Children need that male influence, but it’s not there. The men that we used to be able to look up to and respect in the community have turned their backs, as well. Mister Pastor is so busy trying to lay hands on momma, he don’t have any hands left to hand out discipline to a wayward, fatherless child in his congregation. What are we supposed to do? How are women supposed to raise these boys into men? We can only do so much. What about the “big talk”? Maybe it’s just as well that men aren’t around for that. Given the present conditions and thought process of our men, I think it’s better to have no input than input that could influence our young boys into making generational errors about parenting in their future. As I struggle to raise my four children into responsible, independent, self-respecting individuals, I thank God that this woman is strong enough to endure the task at hand and not waste too much time asking the question, “daddy, where are you”?