Happy birthday farther of mine. You turn 76 today. I wish you health, I wish you well, hell, I even wish you another trip around the sun. I can wish you these things, and then cast them into the wind. I don’t really need or want to know if they reach you, pass you, or get stuck in a tumble weed.
You see, not all of us get the kind of fathers we need, or want. Sometimes we get one made from the leftover parts from the universes lost and found box. And looking at life through the lens of a child, can kinda mess a girl up. We simply do not have the life experiences under our belts to understand its their issues, and theirs alone. As a child, we can’t see this yet. But as a teenager…. We begin to notice that something isn’t right. We notice how they treat our mothers, and notice how they treat us. That this man, the one who is supposed to love and cherish you, becomes the one who makes you question your worth, your self confidence, your abilities to choose wisely. Life as a teenage girl was hard enough, and these things makes it harder.
I grew up hearing how so and so’s kid did whatever soooo much better, or whatever achievements you made, were just not that important, or that field you were thinking, no, not for you because blah blah fuckity blah reason. Let’s not forget my fellow teammate’s mom you decided to screw. No dear father, not awkward at all.
As a teenage girl critter, you need a fathers to be your champion. She needs you to teach her what a healthy relationship looks like. You leave her twisting in the wind, without an anchor to keep her from blowing away. And yes I know many girls grow up without a father, and their mothers do an incredible job, and I am so very thankful for mine.
Looking back to my teenage years, I *think* we had some good memories, I also*think* I even had some good childhood memories. They are cloudy with time, murky and fleeting. Are they mine, or are they just what someone told me.. the water is dark, father of mine, and try as I might, I simply can’t conjure them up. What I do remember are the many times you stabbed your only child in the heart. And that every gift or nice thing done, came with an emotional price tag. Or finding the papers you had drawn up stating that in lieu of child support you let me live in your house.I was thankful to move to Texas with my mom.
Now unbeknown to me at the time, my subconscious mind began to work on laying the groundwork, making plans to go no contact with you. I was 19, and flew back to see you. Walking back into what was once my teenage home, I noticed the air seemed thick, and the house felt heavy. Almost a bad juju feeling. It was hard to remember that there was once laughter and joy. Filled with my wild friends and dance parties and sneaking some of your booze. Finding your pot and realizing that as a teen, me and my friends could score better pot than you could. It was hard to remember that I would sneak out of my sliding glass door, to sit on the retaining wall and look at the city lights, or to enjoy the beauty of the full moon in the desert night. Or making love with the man I thought I would marry. Then it hit me like a thunderbolt. It was Mom and I that made the house special, it was us that gave the house a heart and soul, and when we left you, we took the heart and soul with us.
I remember being so thankful that you had a business trip, and you were gone for most of my stay. It was so awkward and tense. I felt like I was intruding, even though you seemed excited for me to visit. Then only to be told I couldn’t stay in my old room, as it was being used for something else. Which was devastating to that long ago 19 year old girl. I guess I was hoping that since you didn’t see me for over a year, that perhaps you would realize I was worthy of your time, and your love. And at 19, I was hoping we could start fresh, and have a relationship as a grown daughter and her father. Well, that didn’t go as planned.
As I said earlier, my subconscious mind was working overtime to protect my heart and soul. And when I flew home, like a samurai with their sword, I cut the ties to you.And I found it easier and easier not to call you as time went on. The pain was still there for a long time, and it took years to undo the damage, but I was able to do it.
Looking back now, as an adult, as a mother… it is mind boggling that you so easily let your only child go. As a parent, I could never ever do that. I would rather die. And I sure as hell made sure to marry someone who also wouldn’t. I can see you fully and clearly, that sadly, you were a very damaged individual, and that your broken bag of toys, were not mine to fix. And as an adult, and a mother, I’m glad I cut ties, because I would be damned if I let your toxic ways near my children.
In a way, it really is sad, because you missed out on so much. You will never get to know me as an adult or get to know my adult children, or know that I am a 15 year cancer survivor, or know that I have lived a love filled life. And that me and my trio were blessed with a wonderful stepfather, and a much loved Boompa.
So here you go father of mine, I am returning this big ole ball of toxic mess. I am ready to shed this finally. I no longer need it.
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