I still can't call myself a father. I don't know why. The word "father" ... it has so much responsibility tied to it. All of those things it takes to do it right, to be a good "father."
Mine drove his van into a tree. Drunk. That was the end of that story.
I hear my youngest call me "Dad" and it still surprises me. I never thought I would hear it, and sometimes the burden seems too much to bear. Every action, every word is shaping them, molding them, teaching them; right or wrong. God I hope it is enough. All you want for them is to grow up and be good people, to be everything that they can be. You want to give them the best that you are so they can take it, make it part of themselves, and make it better. The problem is, I am human, and I am me, and they get the good with the bad, and I so desperately want them not to have a life like mine. I want them to have a better life than mine, to be better people, to do greater things. Any failure of theirs will inevitably be a failure on my part as well, for if the student fails hasn't the teacher failed as well?
Every day I ask myself if I am doing everything I can do to make their lives good, and every day I can't bring myself to answer because I am afraid of what I might say.