M and I got home yesterday afternoon after spending five days in California, the San Francisco area to be more exact. We flew out of Huntsville last Thursday to spend some time with my younger son Clayton and his wife Mimi....and their cat Winnie. The California Sullivans live in the city of Novato, about 20 miles north of San Francisco on the 101 in Marin County.
Friday was Clayton's 34th birthday, which was the primary reason for the visit, but it had also been a while since we last saw him and Mimi, so we were all looking forward to getting together. We had a wonderful visit with the kids, and the time just flew by. As a dad, I always treasure time when I can be around my two sons, Barclay and Clayton.
My role as a dad has not been exactly what I envisioned. I expected to be a dad similar to my own dad (except perhaps not quite as much as a fix-it person), but a dad who was there, coached Little League, and offered advice. A dad who was the spiritual leader of the family, who passed on to his sons the importance of having a good relationship with God. Above all else, this is the most important thing you can teach your children. I have failed in all of these things.
No, it wasn't by design, as I said, it was not what I envisioned at all. But it was my reality, it was how my role as a parent turned out.
The boys' mother and I divorced in 1996, in our 11th year of marriage, while living in Naples, Fla. In the divorce, she was awarded custody, while I had the boys every other weekend, holidays, birthdays and a good part of the summer. I was 39, and this was how my "official" parenting was going to be, decided my lawyers, affirmed by a judge. This was not how I envisioned things being once I became a father.
This blog is about my role as a dad, not about the boys' mother or the divorce. This is about my failings as a parent, my successes as a parent, nothing else.
I hugged Clayton as we said goodbye at his apartment in Novato. I seriously don't know when I will see him again. Hopefully sometime in the next 12 months. But he has a wife of his own and lives 2,000 miles away. Logistics matter. Barclay is closer; he and Sarah and the grandkids are on the outskirts of Atlanta. We see them with more regularity, and for that I am grateful.
Part of being a dad is listening to them. What are they saying, perhaps more importantly, what are they not saying. Being the non-custodial parent, I always thought they seemed happy to see me, and we would have a great time together. Maybe that was a problem. The time we had together, I tried too hard to entertain them, take them out. I was trying to be more a friend than I was a parent. That was not the right thing to do.
More than anything else, the thing I missed was not being there every day for Barclay and Clayton. That grieved me; it still grieves me. I made it a point to call them every night, and I know over one three or four-year stretch, there were only a handful of nights we did not talk, which I think was good for both of us.
But I didn't know their friends, I didn't know their teachers, what they liked to. I missed sitting at the dinner table every night and talking about our day, listening to them getting excited about some silly thing that was important to them, which consequently, would then become important to me. That is what I did growing up. That is what I wanted to do as a father, but that was not an option.
The summers were nice. The boys would come to Arkansas for six weeks or so, and we got into a routine. We would eat together as a family, we would go to church together as a family, we would hang out together as a family. But by the end of July, they would head back to their mom's in Atlanta. Maybe they were ready to go back, I don't know. I do know the emptiness I felt dropping them off at their house or dropping them off at the airport. After the hugs and the "I love yous," we would go our separate ways. This was not the way it was supposed to be.
More than once the emptiness turned to tears on the trip home. Separated for only minutes and already I missed them.
I am confident Barclay and Clayton love me. I do feel their love. But I feel that even though I loved them and still love them more than they will ever know, I have failed them. As I said, I was not there every day, I didn't help them with their homework, I didn't install a ceiling fan and have them watch. So many things that help define the relationship between a father and son. I was not there when they needed to talk to their dad. I wonder if they think about it like I do.
I did not write this to be a downer, but as a reflection. Leaving Clayton on Monday, I thought of all the times I've left him and his brother. How do they feel about me, do they fully understand what divorce is? No matter the intention, once mom and dad make the decision to no longer be man and wife, and one of them leaves, life changes forever. You can make the argument that having loving parents helps the transition, and there is truth in that. But the fact is, most nights, dad's spot--my spot at the dinner table--was empty. That is never how I envisioned my life turning out.
Forgive me, boys, if I have disappointed you or let you down by not being the dad you wanted or even deserved. It was not because I didn't love you. Sometimes things just don't work out the way we planned.
I love you both. Forever, with every breath God has given me. You are blessings to me, and I am so proud of both of you.
Dads, love your wives, love your children. Make every effort to stay together. Your kids need it, and so do you.
Be safe, be kind to each other. See you down the road.
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