A Different Father's Day

We were able to share a moment together at our father's grave.

Father’s Day has just about passed. I had a wonderful day sharing it with my Daddy and my husband and my loved ones. However, there is one more person who was in my heart and in my thoughts throughout the day. That person was my biological father.

We just visited Chicago last week. It was a wonderful experience to visit so many family members from my Mom’s side of the family. However, we also had the privilege of meeting family members from my father’s side of the family. These were family members whom I had never met. I am the daughter of a man who is no longer with us. He passed away when I was fifteen years old. I had never met this man. He abandoned us—my mom and three kids—when I was a very young child. 

We were truly blessed when God allowed us to be raised by the only man we have ever known as Dad. He accepted my mom with three children and he proudly raised us as his own. For that we will forever be grateful. I am thankful to still have my Daddy with us and I pray that we will be able to share many more years of making memories with him. 

As I have gotten older and gained wisdom and understanding, I desired to one day learn more about the man who will always be a part of me. I finally had that opportunity this past week. We were able to meet one of my father’s brothers and three of his sisters on this trip to Chicago. We also met some cousins. They kindly opened up their homes to us and shared some things about our biological father. They even gave us a picture of him. My dad passed away 22 years ago, at the age of 41. 

My dad found the courage to come looking for us when I was about 13 years old. Now I know that he came while knowing that he was sick and that his time on earth was coming to an end. At that age, I only had two memories of him and my brother only had one. My memories were not great but my brother’s memory of our dad was graphic and terrible. Because we never felt that we had missed out on having a father, we did not desire to go out and meet him when he showed up next door at my aunt’s house. My brother did go out there to shake his hand and to have a brief conversation with our dad. That was the last that I saw of him. I peeked through our living room window as I watched him drive away.   

I was able to learn from my aunts, his own sisters, that he was a terrible husband to my mother and a terrible father to us. They told us that they loved us so much and hated to see their brother treat us so badly. The crazy thing is that my mom and my Dad never allowed us to say one negative thing about our biological dad! My Dad always told us that we had to respect him because he was our dad, whether we knew him or not, whether we liked him or not. I am so thankful to my parents for that! I cannot even describe how much it means to me that the memories that I have of my biological dad are based on my experiences alone and not based on what others ever said about him to me. 

At the young age of thirteen, even at fifteen when he died, I could not understand how much I would one day regret not ever meeting my dad. I learned that he never stopped thinking about us. He regretted treating us terribly and wanted to look for us but never found the courage. He was covered in shame by his past mistakes until he finally found the courage when he found out he was dying. Even then, his attempt to form some kind of relationship with us was met with rejection from us. I will never get that opportunity back. I don’t even know if I will ever see him again. I do pray that he is at peace and that he knew that we were ok when he died. I pray that he would know that we are doing well today. 

God does not make mistakes. He chose Rafael Avila to be my dad for a reason. I actually learned a little bit about him to now be able to see some of him in me, in my brother and in my sister. I learned that we have three half sisters and one half brother in Mexico. We were even able to talk on the phone with one sister and FaceTime with another. We have connected on Facebook and they are willing to share stories about our dad. They were fortunate to have been raised by him. I pray that he was a good father to them. I pray that they have many wonderful memories of him, as they were also young when he passed away. 

This story is one that I share because there are many people who have been let down or felt rejected by a biological parent. However, they are human and flawed, too. They are not perfect nor will they ever be. Forgive them. How many times? Seventy times seven. Forgive them again and again. Take the time to create happy memories with them, without looking at the past mistakes. The past may hurt but God is able to turn that pain into something beautiful if you will allow Him. I love what 1 Corinthians 13 says about love. It says that:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

Sometimes we want to only give our love when we feel others are worthy of receiving our love. God says the opposite. He is love. He says to be love. Give love freely without looking at each other’s faults. Accept one another, flaws and imperfections and all. Had I understood that back when I was thirteen, I could have possibly made even a couple of good memories with my father. I could have possibly gotten to see him smile or laugh once or twice. I may have even been able to cry with him. I may have been able to feel his hug or kiss on the cheek. I may have been able to have taken a picture with him. Not because I was missing out on a father. Simply because he was my imperfect father and a part of me forever. 

I wrote this blog to hopefully inspire someone to give that someone in your life another chance. Be open to reconciliation without any conditions attached. Be open to allow an imperfect person to love you the best way that they know how. My dad did not know how to love us. Perhaps he had never been taught. Perhaps he simply wasn’t ready. I will never know. Either way, today I don’t regret what he did. I only regret what I didn’t do—take the time to meet him in person when I had the chance. This is why I pray so much for reconciliation in families. The enemy loves to break up families. He loves it when we keep record of each other’s wrongs. But if we allow the Spirit to empower us we can overcome our flesh and be love when we least feel like it. I love you. I’m praying that God heals you fully and completely so that you are able to pour out your love unto others in a big and unrestricted way!! All for the praise and glory and honor of HIS mighty name!! 

The man in the lower row in the cowboy hat is my father.