Dads

"Forget AIDS,  I'll double bag it every time. I do not want to be a dad." I nodded, agreeing he was too young to have children. "Not now, not ever. I never want to be a dad." I was perplexed, and couldn't help but respond in surprise.

"Really? You don't think you'll want to have kids some day?"

"Nope. I never want to be a dad. Dads are assholes."

 And he swore, as much as he liked girls and acting like a player at only 16-years-old, he'd always use condoms because he never wanted kids. Okay then. We left it at that. My high school students, mostly boys, needed this class. But we agreed we would be open, not personal.

**

We connected on FB several years after he graduated. I taught this kid for four years. I got to know his family, and he worked for my husband on weekends. I have a book's worth of stories about him and his classmates. We were a family. I handed him his diploma when he graduated. I always had a very special place in my heart for him. I asked him how he was doing.

"I'm getting married," he told me. "And I have a kid on the way." I wasn't sure how to react. I waited for more information. "Yeah, it wasn't planned. But we're going to make a go of it. I love her, and I'm not going to leave my kid without a dad." He insisted they were happy, so I was too.

**

The other night, after several FB posts reflecting on personal growth, I started to become concerned. I had seen similar posts over several days, and I was worried. He and his wife had moved up north to be near her family. Last I heard he had a great job, a beautiful little girl, and he and his wife were doing great. But the daddy pride and family photos were replaced with words of wisdom embedded in reflective memes.

I messaged him, "Everything okay with you kiddo?" He's about 30 now, but I'll always think of him as one of my boys. And I always called him kiddo.

"It's been a rough year, but I'm getting better." I didn't even inquire further. I didn't need to. "I just got out of rehab." All of the air pushed out of my lungs. My cheeks flushed and I wanted to cry. I wanted to give him a hug.

"Well that's bad and good, right?" I was appealing to the fact he got help.

"Yeah, I got caught up in all the wrong crap, fucked a lot of stuff up." We continued with banter about the Miami Hurricanes (he's a big fan of my alma mater), and he told me he was back in Florida living with his aunt and trying to get back on his feet. In between the small talk, he dropped bits about what was happening. "I'm learning a lot about myself. There's a reason I got the way I did." It seemed positive he was doing the personal work one needs to do when dealign with addiction. He shared that he likes his sponsor. And as I wondered what happened with his wife and daughter, and where they were, he let it all out. There were lots of drugs and alcohol and partying, and he was living what he described as a shady life. And he got caught and that sent him into a downward spiral resulting in more of the same. He lost control and knew it, so he asked his mom for help and they checked him into rehab. And he seemed remorseful. "I just don't want to fuck my daughter up. I lost everything."

And we talked some more, and I offered support. He was excited his daughter was coming for a visit after the holidays. He and his wife were at least on speaking terms. I reminded him nothing is impossible, and while I made no crazy promises about what I knew nothing about, I encouraged him to believe it may be repairable. He has some work ahead of him. But I'm certain about one thing. Not all dads, not even the ones with problems of their own, are assholes. At least this one isn't.