A father’s love is a “sometimes” thing. Looking back, the words “I love you” were not often spoken. Physical and verbal affection were more in the mom’s job description. The dad was the disciplinarian, a formidable presence, not a cuddly protector.
“Wait until your father gets home” was a familiar TV sitcom line because it was an accurate and foreboding statement in many homes.
Men are more prone to telling their children of their affection these days, but many still don’t. They assume, as their male parents did, that their emotional attachment to their children is evident.
It isn’t. Words matter. They must be spoken with eyes open and face to face—not once, but repeatedly.
If they aren’t voiced, a problem is created. The dilemma is exacerbated if the father doesn’t embrace his child in all senses.
In my psychotherapy practice, I heard too many lamentations to count describing an unfilled space between child and parent. The dead zone held the words never said, the eyes that rarely met, and the unfulfilled desire for touch.
My patients told me that they still felt the absence. Middle-aged men and women continued to wonder if their father or mother loved them. Moreover, they were afraid to ask. Why? Because the possibility of lacking the guardian’s love could become a reality with words like, “No, I don’t,” or offhanded comments such as “Sure, I do. Don’t be stupid. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Adult children wait, hope, and fret. Time passes. The hope lives, but the question remains unasked and unanswered.
The death of a parent stamps the death certificate with a question mark. The question becomes unanswerable, no matter how many people tell you how much your father praised you in their company.
Such praise is second-hand merchandise and, therefore, of less value. In the counselor’s office, doubt must now be mourned: the unsaid, unknown, possibly unwanted, and uncared-about person who not only misses the parent but will never know what the relationship amounted to with certainty.
If you are a parent, say the words to your child repeatedly. If you are an adult child, consider asking the question. No matter the answer, there will still be time to repair the relationship if the dad is willing. Indeed, your dad might even be grateful to finally open himself to you.
Wynne Leon and Dr. Vicki Atkinson have just released a new podcast with me. We discuss expressions of love, particularly the words “I love you.” I also talk about some personal examples related to friendship and apology, using a few wise words from Aristotle.
I hope you enjoy it: Episode 78: The Blessings & Responsibilities of Friendship with Dr. Gerald Stein
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The top image is Father and Son 27. It is followed by Bert Fields Embracing His Friend Mario Puzo from Heart Times Coffee Cup Studios. Both photos are sourced from Wikimedia Commons. Special thanks to my friends Ron Ableman and Jeff Carren, and a fond farewell to our friend Neil Rosen.
Oh my. Yes. So much heartache in the “unfilled space” you described, Dr. Stein. Thank you for the encouragement to be brave, reach out and say the words. Especially those three powerful ones. ❤️
You have summarized this very well. Thank you, Vicki.
I think we went from hardly saying “I love you” to the extreme to say it ten+ times a day.
Better too much than too little or not at all. If said casually in words like “I love this,” I think we sometimes diminish words that should be precious. Love is more than enthusiasm. I’ll bet you know this very well. Thanks for commenting.
O mio Dio, dottor Stein.
My father exactly died one year ago.
Sadness in my heart. So deep.
And joy, because this unpeaceful unhappy man, who, poor soul, only could make me profoundly unhappy and unaccepted, is now up there at my marvellous mamma Vittorina’s side.
Finalmente in pace.
(Again, again and again, this miraculous junghian sincronicity of all the last subjects you recently wrote about. Magic?)
I won’t read read your text now.
Later.
Grazie, caro dottor Stein.
So very sorry for your back to back losses, Micaela. As you know, Claudius in Hamlet reminds us, “Oh Gertrude, when sorrows come the come not single spies, but in battalions.” I wish you every possible comfort in your difficult time.”
I popped over here from Surprised by Joy and realized that you are part of the podcast I’ve reserved from Monday’s drive home to Wheaton, IL. Both of my parents are gone and the question about love is valid… I felt loved by my mom, but dad he was an enigma. He died in 2009 and his wife step one dies this past January. I am pretty sure our stepmom loved us, but not so sure about dad. Anyway, I always finish a phone call with my kiddos with I love you, but I probably need to go further. My son and his wife are expect twin boys this fall and change is afoot. Looking forward to the podcast.
Thanks for dropping in, Clay. My condolences on your multiple losses. Congratulations on your coming grandchildren. Change indeed. I hope the podcast rings some useful bells. Good luck on working on your relationship with your dad. Saying I love you to your kids is a good start. All the best.
“If you are a parent, say the words to your child repeatedly.” Love this advice. Can never say I love you enough.
Thanks, Brian. You are a good man.
This is such a wonderful reminder of the importance to connect at a heart level with our kids – again and again and again. So good — as is the fantastic podcast with you!
Thanks, Wynne. I know you share your love widely. Your kids are lucky to have you.
Dad went through terrible times early in his life, but he did his best to show his love for me and my brother. His actions meant a lot to me, for he did have difficulty expressing the love verbally. I knew that I was very loved by him, and I’m grateful that he found ways to show it
Remarkable that he was able to do as much as he did. You might know the book, “Children of the Holocaust,” by Helen Epstein. If you haven’t read it, you might recognize yourself in it.