Why a daughter needs a Dad

I read posts like this one with a certain curiosity. The truth is “fatherhood” is something of a blank for me – it’s not a spot full of pain or resentment or any other thing so much as it’s just nothing (though you could certainly wring the tears out of me if you start telling stories of amazing fatherhood). We had a sermon on Sunday night on adoption, as in our adoption as God’s children, wherein the less-than-ideal father situation was covered nicely, and it’s obvious that some people have a whole lot more “negative” in the space than I do in knowing it was an unintentional absence. So, anyway, reading things like this gives me some idea of what’s supposed to be in the blank (which is sort of what this poem was about).

Occasionally I find myself in situations, involving men, where it becomes apparent to me that something is amiss, or perhaps I have certain hold-ups that make some things seem and feel quite difficult, but I don’t know what that is (like a fear buried somewhere), and whether it actually has anything to do with not having a father or not (though there are certainly some things on that list that would be nice). Anyway, that is probably enough online speculative therapy. Maybe I should buy that book and work through it.