After A Lifetime

Week 30

After having not seen my father in almost 10 years, I saw him and my stepmonster day before yesterday. My sister, niece, nephew and I met them at their hotel to go swimming. In the course of a very stilted and very limited conversation, they played a weird tag-team game of question and answer. He expressed how much he liked my barefoot sandals and asked where I got them, as he stared down at my feet. He asked a lot about my mom’s health. She asked if I get to visit my mom often. He asked what kind of job I have. She asked what town I live in. He asked if I was planning to stay in the area. She asked why when I replied, "yes". I explained that we wanted to stay there until Jordyn graduates and I mentioned that he is staying with Melissa currently because of his job. He nodded his head and asked how many children Melissa has now. She asked if Richard and I are still married. He ran out of conversation. She apparently did, too. Seriously, that’s all I got after 10 years. That's it.

We moved toward the pool and they hastened to put a distance between us. I didn’t expect it to be anything other than what it was. He has no clue about anything in my life. He doesn’t want to know me. What breaks my heart in all of this, and always has, is the loss. He doesn't know me and he doesn't know my children (he has missed out on most of their lives) and he doesn't know my beautiful grandbabies. I’m not even sure he has a clue how many of them there are. I sincerely doubt he cares.

He has denied me for almost as long as I can remember. I’ve always wondered why. It’s a question that will never be answered. As I watched him from a distance, I was struck yet again, with how much I favor him and his side of the family. The resemblance is more pronounced as I age, I think. On the outside, it would seem I have inherited much from him, on the inside, not so much… if anything at all. There seems to be no resemblance between him and my blond-haired, blue-eyed sister. They on the other hand are VERY close, they always have been and apparently always will be. They are well suited for one another. She is crazy and he is an asshole.

My stepmonster spent almost the entire time sitting on the side of the pool playing Yatzhee with my sister. For some reason, my sister has always sucked up to her. As long as I can remember, they have paired up the few times we have all been together. I was just a wee bit amused at the pointed way the stepmonster ignored me for the most part. I'm afraid by association, my niece was ignored most of the time as well. The one time my father swam near us and appeared to want to communicate, he seemed at such a loss for words, I almost felt sorry for him... almost.

I’m certain the stepmonster was relieved when, after what seemed like forever of listening to the kids saying that they were hungry, I offered to go get everybody food. My niece and I dried off and nearly raced for the exit. The stepmonster's relief was nearly palpable when I delivered it and announced I couldn’t stay because I needed to get back to Mama’s so I could feed her, too. I told them my niece would be going with me. My niece had already begged me to not leave her and had eaten in the car on the way back.

The brief hugs we exchanged as they stood there holding the food I’d bought seemed to emphasize the distance between us. My father’s arms around me were the arms of a stranger. Stiff, reserved, and decidedly uncomfortable, it was an obligatory gesture that resonated with the saddest emptiness I have ever felt.

The stepmonster’s hug was devoid of all emotion. I’m not surprised because it’s been that way for the nearly 40 years I have known her. Funny, when I think of her I generally think of a void. I’ve never seen her as a particularly intelligent person. Nor do I see her as a person capable of true emotion. I can’t explain it I just feel it and always have.

To celebrate and commemorate the sense of freedom I felt at the moment I turned away from them, I decided to get a tattoo. Peter Pan, Wendy, John & Michael are now shadows flying across my arm. Those who know me will get the significance. Those who don’t won’t. Seeing him again has taught me several things. We are nothing to each other. We never really were. We never will be. After a lifetime of pain and anger, I am finally free.

What Father's Day Means to Me

Week 24

Father’s Day is today. I have a father. We all do. Some are alive and some are not. Mine is alive, he just sucks. It’s a fact of life. I’m not proud of it, but, I’m not ashamed of it either. Some are good parents and some are not. It took adulthood for me to understand that some parents are just a biological contributor and nothing more.

You see, my father was a coward who moved his family halfway across the country, then he just left and never came back. I understand that adults have their own problems. But, to abandon your own children and leave them in the wake of your wrecked relationship like flotsam and jetsam floating on the sea is still far beyond my comprehension. How can you say you love someone, then turn and walk away… forever?

I can’t imagine leaving my children behind. Not for a second do I think I could have lived without them. That just makes me a different kind of person from my father. My family has always come first in my life. They enrich my life. I don’t feel sorry for myself and I don’t want anyone else to feel sorry for me. Stories like mine are a dime a dozen.

I had some amazing role models in the dad department growing up. My best friend’s dad was one of the greatest. He was always very involved with not only his children, but their friends as well. He was a loving, kind, compassionate father. He was the kind of man who loaned himself out to a little girl who had just lost her father, and wrapped her in his own rare kind of accepting love. He was my first Pop... Pop Finley.

I grew up with a grandfather that did everything in his power to step up to the plate as a role model when my father dumped us (my mother, my sister and myself) practically on his and my grandmother’s doorstep. Not for a second have I ever doubted how much he loved me. He was a wonderful man and an exceptional Grand-DAD.

When I got married, I gained a new dad, my father-in-law, otherwise known as Pop (my second Pop). He accepted me from the beginning and for the first time, I felt like I had a real father. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that I would someday be the person who would end up taking care of him and my mother-in-law in their twilight years, but I did. The last three years of his life, I was blessed to share a kind of love that defies description as I became the parent and Alzheimer’s made him the child.

When it comes to dads, I have been extraordinarily blessed. Though they have all passed on, I am thankful for the time they were in my life. As for my sperm-donor, he missed out on more than he could ever know. He missed out on knowing me.