I was raised by my grandparents and had the best Daddy in the world. Both my grandparents passed away in 2006 though, something I struggle with on a daily basis. That will be a different entry. It’s time to write about my father. Hubby and I were actually talking about dads in general last night. His dad, well he doesn’t know his dad. He’s never met him, but does know he has half brothers and half sisters. It’s been tough for him, but I feel he’s lucky to have never met him; to avoid the pain of trying too hard to form and keep a relationship with someone who doesn’t really care. I could never personally deny my children. I gave them life sure, but in turn, they gave me life!
As a small with a little brother and a little sister, my dad left. We watched as he drove away in anger. This was the best thing that could have happened to my mom though, in my opinion. My father pushed my mom so hard that she nearly went through the glass balcony door of her apartment. He pushed her into the bathtub at 6 months pregnant with my sister, causing her to go into labor which they couldn’t stop. He would make promises to us, tell us he would come this day or that day and never show up. When he left, that day he drove away, I looked at my mom and asked “Is daddy a fucking asshole?” She decided to answer honestly and told me yes, sometimes he is. Little did I know, she meant yes, yes he is, all the time.
When I was 10, my dad lived not far from me. I’d go and see him and spent a lot of time over there. I loved his girlfriend’s sons, it was great to have step brothers, or older siblings in general. I spent more days than I didn’t spending time with my step brother Tommy. It was just wonderful to have my whole family together in this town. Then, my dad and his girlfriend moved. It was a few years later when my dad asked if I’d like to move in with him. I told him maybe. Eventually, I did say yes. They made a trip to come see family, and to come and get me. The problem was, I had changed my mind. I couldn’t leave my grandparents. I was a very bad, rebellious pre-teen and teen, but I knew where home was. When I told him this over the phone, he blew up. By that, I mean went completely crazy. He started yelling at me, calling me names and calling me down, and told me he was going to kill me.
It was a while before I started talking to him again, but I did. I don’t know why. Blood is thicker than the tears I had cried I suppose. Throughout the rest of my teen years up until now at 28 years old, all I’ve wanted is a relationship with my father, but it has proven to be impossible. He has said so many things, made so many promises; broken all the promises and never stuck to his word. He lives 8 hours away, so I’d call just to say hi and see how he was doing. But he told me he wasn’t a phone person. I only spoke to him every few months or half a year. He was invited to my wedding in 2005, but he said he wasn’t coming because my half-sister (his daughter) and her mom would be there. The following year, hubby and I attended his wedding. For me, I was showing him that I was the bigger person.
Since then, I’ve spoken to him maybe 5 times total. I speak to his wife more often than I do him. A few years ago, he told me he would prefer to text, so we text back and for often for a couple of months. Then he just stopped, and stopped replying. So one day, I sent him a text telling him exactly how I felt about the whole situation, it wasn’t pretty. He ended up getting mad at me, telling me that he was not having this conversation right now. He went off on me about being at his parents house. Gran was in the hospital for knee surgery. They’re in their 80’s. He said they’re getting old, etc and that they’re going to die soon. I told him I understood that because I lost my parents in 2006! Hell, when my grandpa was dying, he asked “How is your dad doing?” He knows he’s never been my Dad. I haven’t spoken to him since that text, he won’t even reply.
Now for me, regardless of all the hurt he’s caused me, I still have this longing to be his daughter. I still hurt so deeply every time I don’t hear anything back, every time my birthday goes by and I hear nothing (he doesn’t know my birthday), the fact that when he comes to town, he can’t stop by for even two minutes. It hurts me, a lot. Why do I keep trying? Why can’t I just push this man out of my life, out of my heart and far away from my emotions? He doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway! Yet I sit here and hurt, and hope that one day he’ll decided he wants to be my dad. I’ve never been good enough for him…my first wrong in his eyes was being female. He wanted a son. It hasn’t stopped since then. He actually made me give him a car (a ’66 Comet) I got as a wedding present from my grandpa, he made me give it to him. He went off about how it was technically his and to do the right thing and to not cause drama. So I said fine, and gave him the car. Even though my grandpa had already passed away. I was so beyond hurt he even brought it up! They live in a huge house and have many old classic muscle cars, and new cars, etc. I have a house that’s falling apart, and not even one running vehicle right now, no classic cars. How could he be so selfish?