I came out to my mother, some family members, and even some friends well before I came out to my father. In my mind, my father was always an old-school, quiet, opinionated man’s man. I lived with my parents all my life and even now as they’ve gotten on in years, they live with me.
In a way, I was always afraid of my father because of his perspectives, attitudes, and beliefs, including those about the gay culture. Although I had no evidence, I naturally assumed they were strongly negative. Therefore, I was petrified about letting him know my truth. I was afraid he wouldn’t talk to me ever again. I was afraid he would look at me with disgust. I was afraid he would judge me. I was afraid he’d kick me out of his house. I was afraid he would hate me.
I had kept a secret my entire life, and yet I was also hypocritical when I finally did begin to reveal it in 2011. It was then that I asked all of the family members and friends that I told to not only accept me for who I was, but to keep my secret for me as well. Luckily, they did accept me, and they all kept my secret. It wasn’t until 2014 when I got engaged to my girlfriend that I knew it was time to finally tell my father.
Honestly, I was still scared and I was still hesitant, but I knew I couldn’t plan a wedding and invite all of my family members, but never tell him. I was afraid he would yell and I was afraid he wouldn’t come to the wedding. I set my expectations very low, and yet I still couldn’t find the courage to tell him. I asked my mom to help me and she, of course, came to my rescue. She broke the news to my father honestly, nonchalantly, and lovingly. When she recapped the conversation afterward, she told me that he had hardly said a word. The only thing he was worried about was what his sister, whom he was extremely close with, would say. To his surprise, and probably relief, my aunt already knew and was completely supportive and understanding.
For the next couple of days, my father didn’t speak to me. He didn’t seem angry, but he did seem uncomfortable. He didn’t make eye contact with me and spent an unusual amount of time taking naps during the day. I knew that he needed time to let it all sink in and he was dealing with the news in the only way he knew how—by avoiding me. I was okay with that. At least he didn’t kick me out, yell at me, or say hurtful words he could never take back. As time went on, he began to speak in short sentences to me again…a mumble here, a phrase there. We never talked about my sexuality. He didn’t have any questions or make any comments to me. And I was okay with that, too.
A few months later, as I was giving my father a ride somewhere, we sat in my car at a red light in silence. I was staring out the front window trying to find some courage. Before I knew it, the light turned green, I stepped on the gas, and the words just came flying out of my mouth. I just blurted out the question I had wanted so badly to ask him, “Dad, will you walk me down the aisle at my wedding?" We had never talked about my relationship, my engagement, or my wedding plans, so this question was pretty much out-of-the-blue. I didn’t know what to expect.
“I don’t know if I can,” he said. I swallowed hard and felt my eyes well up with tears. I clutched the steering wheel firmly and was afraid that the moment had finally come—the moment where he would lash out at me and finally tell me everything he had been painfully holding in for all those months. I continued to stare straight ahead, let out a sigh, and prepared myself for him to force his opinions down my throat and tell me how disappointed and disgusted he was with me.
“My cane…” he said. “I need my cane to hold me up and help me walk. I don’t think it can hold us both." Although he was a man of few words, the sincere sweetness and innocence in the ones he had just said meant the world to me.
I held back my tears and replied, “We’ll lock arms, Dad, and we’ll hold each other up as we walk.”
“Okay,” he responded. And that was that. At that moment, I felt love, compassion, and acceptance. It was probably the most beautiful moment I ever had with my dad.
My father never had to say a word to me about my secret. On my wedding day, he walked me down the aisle and that gesture spoke volumes. I was proud to walk arm-in-arm with this man that I had been so wrong about for so many years.
Ironically, I’ve gotten to know my father much better over the past few years, especially since I’ve been married. He and my mother have since moved into an apartment in the house that my wife and I own and I’m grateful that I get to see them and spend time with them everyday.
To my wonderful surprise, my wife and my father have developed an excellent relationship, which is something I definitely never expected. With great interest and enthusiasm, she listens to his stories about growing up in Brooklyn during the Depression and about his days in the Army. They go shopping and run errands, and sometimes they just sit and watch television together. Every now and then I have to pinch myself because I can’t believe how fortunate I really am. I’ve gotten to know my father better in large part because of my wife. She constantly engages him and the two have formed their own bond. It’s quite beautiful. Every time she shares something new she learned from their conversations, I find myself constantly saying, “I didn’t know that,” or, “Really? I never heard him mention that.”
My wife has reminded me that, despite the fact that he’ll soon turn ninety years old, “Your father knows a lot and he remembers a lot of things. You just have to sit down with him and take the time to ask him questions and be willing to listen to what he’s got to say. He’s really interesting and he’s got a lot of good stories.”
I wasted so much time in my life assuming I knew my father, never taking the time to really talk with him and develop a more personal father-daughter relationship. My assumptions had only led me to years of unwanted fear and doubt. What I realized was that I didn’t even really know this man that I had lived with my entire life—the one I considered to be an old-school, quiet, opinionated one. I learned that he was actually a thoughtful, gentle, accepting, reasonable man, with a lot of knowledge and a good sense of humor. My relationship with him now is the best it’s ever been because we both take the time to talk to and listen to each other. I had been unnecessarily afraid and worried for years. I’m proud to say that I couldn’t have been more wrong about who I thought my father was, and I’m so thankful for who he actually is.