This is the 6th year I’ve written on my birthday. You can read the previous articles here.
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Introduction
Before I became a parent, I had many preconceived notions about what I would be like as a parent – I would have infinite patience and never lose my temper, I would enforce healthy boundaries with a consistency that would be the awe of any parenting expert, and obviously, I would never give my kids something they were whining for just to snatch a brief moment's peace, and so much more. But the reality of being a parent has shattered that fabricated image of my future self. Not because I don’t want to exhibit those qualities, but because the realities of being a parent have proven much more challenging than I ever expected. The trickiest part has turned out to be balancing the short-term versus long-term benefits for my child, my partner, and myself. In some cases, I recognize that I may not be able to evaluate the results of my actions for decades to come.
Experiencing the complexity of choices a parent must make on a daily basis brought about what can only be described as a miracle in my life. This miracle is something that for over 16 years I had never thought would be possible, but it has happened now as a result of the challenges my wife and I have faced in parenthood, along with a healthy dose of self-awareness, introspection, and the luck needed to connect the dots and see things in a different way.
My Childhood
My mother moved from Russia to Canada with my sister and I when I was 17 years old. Because both of us children were minors, she needed the consent of our father to leave the country. Although my parents had separated when I was 12 years old, my father and I had a good relationship – I remember the excitement in his eyes when he showed me on our first computer and explained how the Internet would change the world. We often went to the swimming pool together, and he helped me with physics when I was preparing for the university. However, upon hearing the news of our upcoming move to Canada, things changed.
Our emigration to Canada had been in the works for several years; but when the time came, the window given to us by the embassy was only two weeks. Two weeks to wrap up all our affairs and prepare to start life anew in a new country. It wasn’t nearly long enough.
Even though I was still a teenager, I wanted to emigrate, and I was thrilled to learn that we had finally gotten the visa to come to Canada. The only thing stopping us was my father’s consent.
I vividly recall him sitting me down and asking me why I wanted to move to Canada. He tried to sway my decision by saying that people like me were a dime a dozen in Canada and that no one needed me there. He told me I would end up working as a taxi driver. For years afterward, I resented him bitterly for saying these things. I was upset that he wasn’t happier for me to have the opportunity to move to one of the best countries in the world. This resentment ran so deep, that after we had moved and settled in Canada, I slowly cut off communication with him. We would speak briefly on our respective birthdays, but that was about it.
Over the course of the next 16 years, between 2005 and 2021, my father and I saw each other only three times: once in Thailand for two weeks, another time in Paris for one week, and later in Saint Petersburg for two weeks.
The Miracle
Nine months after the birth of my son, we decided to travel to Europe. I thought it would be a good opportunity while we were there for me “to do the right thing” and introduce him to his grandfather. We picked Croatia as a middle point to meet. By then, it had been five years since my father and I had last seen each other.
The moment I saw my father face-to-face, in a flash I saw him in a different light: here was a man, who when he was only a few years older than me, had been forced to say goodbye to his son, who was leaving halfway across the world with a one-way ticket to start a new life … a new life without him. Then a thought crept into my head: how would I feel if my son were to decide to leave forever and I had no means to follow him? That question broke my heart.
Suddenly I understood the deep fear my father had faced of not having his son by his side. I understood his desperate, irrational attempts to keep me from leaving by any means that he could. And seeing that man – a man just like me who loved his son and simply wanted to be with him – I forgave him. I forgave him not conditionally or temporarily: I forgave him completely and permanently.
My sister, my father, and me in Croatia. One of the most profound moments of my life.
For the past 12 months now my father and I have been rebuilding our relationship and speaking together several times a week. I can feel the wounds are healing, and he is now part of my family – something I could not picture myself saying for more than a decade and a half.
As the dust settles on this 16-year period of pain and resentment, what saddens me the most is that those 16 years are lost to time and can never be regained. This still breaks my heart.
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This year and each year going forward, I want to forgive more.
Thank you for reading.
Vitaly