I feel the need to openly speak my truths, even though it seems dramatic and juvenile. Call it what you will-I call it necessary.
Over six years ago, things got weird with my father. The man who cheated on my mother, and I forgave countless times over the years-even after being uninvited to my paternal Grandfather’s funeral because I monetarily was flat broke to get there and 8.5 months pregnant.
I forgave him for shunning me out of his life once again. He finally met our daughter when she was almost a year old. After we almost lost her during my pregnancy due to a rapidly growing cyst. I underwent major surgery and went into preterm labor, and we all survived. With the love and support of my father and new in-laws and maternal side all rooting for us. But that didn’t last long with him…
Over the years it became an emotional roller coaster of taking sides and fighting amongst the family. But my father and his wife stood by our sides after we mended fences years before.
This brings us to about six years ago, as I stated earlier. We were so close. In 2008, Our home burned down a few years prior, and my father opened his newly purchased condo to us. I remember pulling my husband aside, in all the confusion and heartache, and saying this would destroy our relationship with them…sure enough, I guess it did.
Fast forward to 2011-I had a feeling I might be pregnant when things were getting weird with my father and step mother. It had been over a year since we moved out of their condo and back home. There was plenty of tension over the course of the year living there, but we put up with it, feeling guilty and grateful for having a place to live while we rebuilt our life and home.
It started with a mild disagreement with my father over the phone about painters he hired(our neighbors who we apprehensively recommended for the job).
My father seemed out of sorts and flipped out at my husband who he generally got along really well with.
They had heated words, and I told my husband to end the call civilly if it escalated.
Well it escalated… for days.
My last actual phone call with my father was bizarre. Very heated on his end, coming from a man who always very mellow and calm.
I had promised myself not to get upset and freak out, because I had a feeling I was pregnant…and almost 40. I was terrified I could jeopardize this gift coming our way so late in our lives.
I listened to his berating and accusations. I tried to calmly challenge him. Not sure how it ended, but I do remember an email telling me with expletives (as he swears we referred to my step mother) that he chose the B@tch over all of us…and soon after sold his home and beach condo and moved to Arizona.
I am coming forward to call my father out, (who I adored), for being a no good nothing.
He didn’t fight for us when we were toddlers, he didn’t fight for us as teens. He tolerated us as adults.
Not sure if it was his own doing, but regardless, any man that can walk away THREE times from his daughter, and now all three daughters and 14 grandchildren (some he doesn’t even know) for the past six years…I hope he can look in that mirror and say it was worth it. Because I know his mother, and father, and sister would not approve of the lies.
Stop sharing our pictures and pretending you care and have this big diverse beautiful family…because you do NOT know this family. Giving the grandkids that you DO still occasionally speak to, an HOUR of your time when it fits your schedule when you live in Arizona? Why bother?
They’d be better off without the offer.
I loved you.
I adored the idea of my daddy loving me back finally. Of wanting to know me and loving my kids…who by the way, have no desire to speak to him again…they adored him…he did the same to them as he did to me and my sisters forty years ago…
All I have left to say, is I loved you, Dad.
But I bid you farewell.
It hurts too much.