I struggled with writing a piece about Father’s Day.
I have had two fathers.
My birth father, a man I only knew until I was eight, and whom I can still feel in my heart, hung himself after the death of my mother. I have not yet been back to Poland to find his grave, and am leaving that for a day when I will not be afraid of drowning in my own tears.
My adoptive father passed away when I was 24. I know, I go through parents quickly.
He gave me a chance at a new life in Canada, and despite his best intentions, which I do recognize, physically and sexually abused me.
My views of fatherhood were skewed for years but gratefully, I have met many fathers out there in the world who exemplified what it means to truly accept that role in a positive way.
My partner used to volunteer at a prison visiting men who were eager to have someone on the outside to talk….