How Do We Forgive Our Fathers?

There's a great monologue at the end of the movie “Smoke Signals”. It asks the question, “how do we forgive our fathers?”. Then speaks of situations and reasons for forgiving. The first time I watched the movie I wondered about that monologue and put it in the perspective of the need for children of absentee or abusive fathers to come to terms with that aspect of their lives.

Then I reached a point in my life where I had to ask, and answer, the same question.

Without going into details, circumstances had forced me to really look at my own life, as my father's son, and how that had led me to the point in life where I was doing a lot of soul searching. A painful memory (not involving my father) I had long suppressed came to the surface during this time. I asked Creator why, what was the purpose of re-experiencing this? The answer surprised me, and in that surprise revealed why I needed to answer the question “How do I forgive my father?"


I grew up in a pretty normal, middle class American home. My father had a good job. We never lacked for anything, we lived in a nice home in a nice neighborhood and he made sure there would be money for college when the time came, etc. It was pretty much the American Ideal as seen on “Leave It to Beaver” or “Father Knows Best”. At least that's how I always remembered it.

He was the type who would toil for 30 years at a job that I would find dull and uninspiring, because to him, the rewards of the job and what it meant for his family made it worthwhile. I remember in High School, I asked for a new Euphonium. We could easily rent one from the school that was perfectly good but I wanted a specific horn. A top of the line Besson Satin Silver Euphonium. My father bought it for me. At the time I didn't really think in terms of the expense, just what it meant to me that he did buy it.

I was never abused, never neglected (though my father was not one for displays of affection, he felt he proved his love by being a good provider) never subjected to horrific arguments between my parents, or seeing my father come home drunk, or cheat on his wife. I was blessed to not have to deal with any of those tragedies.

An idyllic life, depending on your point of view.

So what do I need to forgive my father for doing, or not doing?

I had to forgive my father for being such a good father.

How is that possible?

Here's how: I spent most of my life trying to live up to his expectations. I wanted to become a musician: he said I couldn't earn a decent living at that. So to compromise I went into music education. “Being a teacher is a good profession” he said. I made some life mistakes which kept me from fulfilling that goal, and for 20 years after it was obvious my dad was disappointed.

I thought all that time he was disappointed in me, as his son. It was only when I started trying to answer this question about forgiveness that I realized he was really only disappointed in the choices I had made. I had spent 20 years of my life trying to win my father's approval, when I had never had his disapproval to begin with.

So, I had to learn to forgive my father for being human. He wasn't the ideal, Superman-like person I remember him as when I was a child. It was my image of him as Superdad that led me to think I had to match his life in some way to win his approval. He never expected me to be like him, beyond following is example in being responsible for my family. I have learned I was doubly blessed in this regard: so many sons have their lives chosen for them by overly controlling fathers.

So I forgave my father for being human. Was that enough? No, because the last line of the “Smoke Signals” monologue is “if we forgive our fathers, what's left?”.

What's left is forgiving ourselves. Too often, sons blame our fathers for placing expectations on us they never did. We must forgive ourselves for considering the image of our fathers to be more real than who they really were.

When sons do this, we are being unfair to our fathers in ways we don't realize until the day we look at our own sons and question what it is we really mean to them. We fault them for transgressions or failures that exist only in our own, 10 year old boy minds. Father and son are both held hostage by our own imaginings.

How do I forgive myself for this?

I'm still working that part out. I'll let you know when I have it down.

Rain