This Sunday, here in Melbourne, was not fathers day as it was in a lot of other places in the world.
It was however still a day of being a father to my 3 boys, and not a very good one to one in particular.
Words spoken in anger at a child never come from a good place. And so it was last night on the couch. Fuck you I shouted (twice) at him. He was not my little boy at that moment, rather a challenge to something deep inside that triggered the words back to him.
It wasn’t okay.
It never is.
And the damage done is now there.
Apologies are always too late, when wounds are inflicted, and are still being felt deeply.
And now there is a level of shame and helplessness that comes in the aftermath.
And all I can say to him now is that I love him.
As I always have and always will.
Big love to all the Fathers and Mums out there.
Mick
