Sunday Night With John: Dear Dad, I'm A Dad
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Dear Dad, I’m A Dad
John Paul Derryberry
The whirlwind from zero children to two children is complete. Now we have to raise them. In the quiet moments, I have stolen through this process, I realized I was back in the grieving process, not because I was in an unhealthy place, but because being a father, reminded me of my father in such significant ways. The moment I went from son to dad, couldn't help but float me to the moments I was just a son.
Ah, the grieving process and it's never ending road. The most significant thing people forget to teach you about grief it really never ends. No matter how far you are from the loss, there are moments it taps you on the shoulder and reminds you this person still tugs at your heart, and you still miss them. Sometimes it happens in your happiest moments because you wish just for a second you could share it with them. As I rock in the rocking chair holding my second baby daughter, just released from the hospital, I find myself drifting to when my father swayed in his thrown of a lazy boy. There are moments when people who suffered significant loss would give up a lot to get some time with the person they lost. This is one of those times for me. Heck, If I knew I was getting 90 years of life, I would happily trade one year off my life to have a one-hour conversation with my dad.
Someone asked me on my wedding day if I was 100% percent happy. The easy answer is yes, but the honest answer was I was 98% happy because one percent wished my dad was there and one percent wish the friend I lost in high school were there. This is, of course, an acceptable answer, just not one people want to hear. It's the answer I hope we can all give without judgment one day. I had questions about marriage; only a man can ask his father. I again find myself both super happy but in a new stage of the grieving process. I have questions still a man only can ask his father about being a dad. So while my dad cannot answer, it does not stop me from asking.
Dear Dad,
Holy cow I'm a dad. I have two beautiful girls 8 and a half months apart. In July, Anne and I adopted a girl Amelia Jay Hansen Derryberry. Amelia, from her birth mom, Jay for Anne's dad who is the second greatest man I have ever been around. Don't worry a distant second from you. Hansen, because I married independent, intelligent women who makes life grand, and Derryberry because it remains the most amazing last name ever. We finalized her adoption on January 18th. This past week Anne gave birth to, Greta Lee Hansen Derryberry. Greta because Anne and I love the name. Lee for you, Dad, the greatest man I've ever know. Hansen because I married independent, intelligent women who makes life grand, and Derryberry because it remains the most amazing last name ever. Over this past 8 and half months I often found myself drifting to thoughts of you. So many days I wished you could have been a part of. I wondered what you would think of all of this, and what advice you would give your youngest about fatherhood.
There are times, where I get mad at myself for not missing you more often. Then I remind myself you would be proud of the healing I have done, and how I have used my journey to help so many. I was a taken back the other day when in conversation with a friend he mentioned my blogs help him. When I created this message, began speaking, and writing I always thought it would be strangers I would be assisting. To find out from friends and family, the impact I have on them is profoundly inspiring to me. So many near and far struggle with emotional health. It is both reassuring I have an audience because that means it's coming out in the open, but sad so many still suffer in the dark. I would love to see your, "You did something right face" if we had to chance to talk about it.
Earlier this year I used your wisdom "Don't overthink and keep swinging" from your baseball lessons to announce the world, Anne and I were expecting our second child. My kids are 8 and a half months apart. Any advice for having two tiny ones in the house at the same time? Mom always told me, I was the child who had to do things; differently. I guess the way I started my family was going to make for a great story.
I'm new to the fatherhood thing, and I'm not creating any new ground, but there is no accurate way to describe precisely just how much the rest of the world fades away when you see your child. I'm am both more focused on creating a better world for them, and yet less concentrated on anything but them when I'm with them. It's an excellent place to be, it great to type the sentence. I want you to know that more than anything life is grand.
It's crazy how quickly they get a personality. Amelia is curious and social. She is already developing FOMO, Fear of Missing Out. It's a tough balancing act, from being a father, a husband, and still pushing my career for the achievements I personally want. Juggling roles and the importance of those roles is difficult. Many say to be a father first, but if I end up unhappy in my career, I will not make a good father. I wonder how you pulled it off. You and mom made it look so easy. I would love to have a story about you struggling with this balancing act. Bouncing those thoughts and feelings off of you would be great. Maybe some advice you gave me way back when will click one day, and it will all snap together. More than likely you would tell me there any many roads to being a great dad, just walk one of them.
Just know, I've never been happier. Life is excellent, and when I drift to missing you, it's not because I need you but because I want to share my experience, my family, my friends, and a beer with you. I wish you could teach your granddaughters how to play chess on your board, but it will be fun I get to do it. I wonder if you would let them win when you never gave me an easy win. The one question I do have that I have no clue how to get it answered. Your dad wasn't grandpa. He was a papa. When I'm telling our stories to my children, I wonder if you want to be grandpa or papa. Either way, they will know you, and if I'm lucky they will hate all your unique lessons like I did, and then one day when they are older, cherish them as their most prized possession as I do.
Thanks for everything
Love,
Your Son, Their Dad!