I would like to tell you that today is a day like many others, but it is not.
Today the joy of being fathers is celebrated.
I would like to tell you a torn story, which allows you to imagine a happy man, who returns home from his family, who manages to find time and energy to cook a dessert with all the relatives. But today no.
Today I want to talk to you about fathers, children of our time, far from our grandparents and little similar to our parents.
That it is clear, not by choice, but on the occasion; A missed opportunity or a life too hard to manage in the best way.
There are men, in fact, who return home with the weight on the shoulders of a difficult job, so much so as to get their hands dirty, with a mask that blocks the breath and the bank accounts, between a debt and a rope that think it can be the only solution.
There are men who return home whistling, with their own leather briefcase in hand, with a mask that covers the face injured by a lost customer and a long beard that is not worth taking care, between a now lost possibility and one rope that think can be the only solution.
There are men who return home frightened by tomorrow, with a mask suffocating the present, to embrace their own half, which however cannot make them father, between a sense of guilt due to pride and a rope that think it can be 'only solution.
There are men who return home, lower the mask wet from the rain, kiss their partner and then continue to affirm the operator of the call center that their roommate is not at home, between a lie too heavy and a rope that think can be the only solution.
There are men. But above all, there are fathers.
Those men, with innate efforts, visible security, with invisible sensitivity, are wonderful fathers.
They return home with the fears of a difficult world that today teaches us that everything can happen, but smile and embrace even in their silences. Between a football match, a bread on the table shared, the clothes thrown into a chair, senseless and ancient stereotypes, the fathers, with and without children, are responsible parents.
They are responsible for the life of those who live that house that would always like to be full of joy and emptied of any problem.
For example, I, I had a father who has always wanted to empty.
Oh yes, they are among the privileged. He emptied my room, my mind, my heart from every concern, ugliness and misunderstanding of the world, remembering that, if I had needed something, his hand would have been there to help me, supporting me with even more strength.
My father, with a mask in his face, my culpted hands and 75 years in wrinkles, gives me fundamental looks to my being and my life.
Who no longer has a dad, who is not a dad by choice, who is not a father for opportunities or for lack of a right, can be or having a father, learning to empty.
Dads empty their hearts and put innate love in the other, regardless of the DNA, the blood group or the most hidden gene.
Father is who Father wants to be.
Father is those who empty their heart.
On this day, therefore, we celebrate this father, whether it is far away, close or inside ourselves, because it is thanks to him, to them, that in the dark moments we manage to empty the room from the darkness and learn to bring the light.
