There is nothing like losing a father that makes you grow up faster than the rest. Even when I wish it upon no one else, losing my father played a pivotal role in becoming a man.
At age sixteen my parents moved to San Fransisco, about three hours from my hometown, to begin my father’s chemotherapy. I am the first-born child so managing the home was, naturally, my responsibility.
My parents never forced me into this role. Yet, I always had a sense of responsibility and urgency that it was my time to step up as a man. Looking back, the pressure I felt to step up was not from anyone else but myself. A God-given desire to lead in the midst of a trial. Thus, my journey to manhood began.
The next few months proved harder than I had anticipated. Aunts, uncles and grandmas drove in to town to “watch” us kids. I always appreciated the help as most of the time I had no idea what I was doing.
Yes, “what am I doing?” was a question which I asked, no, yelled at myself on a daily basis. I thought the question would someday stop. I have since found out this question is part of becoming a man. Frankly, the question will never stop. It has never stopped. It just shifted from one situation to the next.
Over the next months, I continued to ask questions and find the answers, one way or another. I prayed more, thought more, questioned more, and trusted God more. This was just the training ground for the future.
So naturally, the question is: when did I become a man?
Unfortunately, our society has diminished this journey to manhood. Fathers have forsaken teaching their sons how to be men. Maybe they have bought into the lie that adulthood is an age rather than a character in which one possesses. Maybe they don’t think they need to teach their boys to be men, it will just happen. Or, maybe they have forgotten how to be men themselves.
Whatever the case, I thank God that I know when I became a man. In a quiet living room, at 2am, staring at my father who was laying lifelessly on his hospice bed. Nothing can describe that moment. With all the emotions that were flooding my mind, one thing was certain. It was now my time to be a man.
Related Resources:
Letter To My Father: 6 Years After His Death
(Photo Credit Matt Gruber)
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