Daddy
I was curious about the first Father's Day and it turns out it's much like all "Days". Just a cash grab for Hallmark and a boon in sales for steakhouses across North America.
I have two dads. One who contributed DNA some years ago and one my mother married when I was a pubescent punk. My stepfather may have made some mistakes in raising us but he was there and supported us and treated us as his own blood.
The man who is partly responsible for my genetic makeup was in and out of our lives. My sister and I worshipped him. He was fun and loud and dynamic and always had gifts for us. He gave money to our baseball team for new uniforms. One birthday he showed up out of the blue dressed up as a clown. When we were around 7 and 9, he took us to Disneyland. During that trip, he left us with a strange babysitter so he could go to Mexico for the day. We would go months without seeing him even though he lived an hour and a half away but when he showed up it was absolute bliss for those precious hours.
One time in late fall/early winter, he came to pick Erin and I up in his El Camino. He sped through the side roads around our home, spraying dirt everywhere. It was thrilling and terrifying. We passed a little frozen pond and he screeched to a halt. "Let's drive over it, it'll be a blast sliding around!" he insisted it would be amazing. Erin and I had a misadventure with a little slough the previous winter and were very leery of ice. But at the same time we were terrified Dad wouldn't like us anymore if we didn't go through with it. "Maybe we should check it just in case, Dad," I recall saying. He got out of the car, poo poo-ing us and walked to the edge of the pond. As soon as he stepped on the ice his leg dropped in and he barely managed to prevent himself from falling in.
I still remember the look on his face, the classic "O" of his mouth and his eyes wide at the shock. Walking back to the car, the left leg of his jeans a waterlogged dark blue.
Looking back I know he must have been drunk or something but at the time he just seemed wild and crazy.
After he remarried and had kids, he told me that he didn't consider Erin and I his family. His wife and young sons were. I lived with them for 6 months when I was a teen and it was disastrous. Coming home with 98% on a test got the "Do you realize that 2% of what you did was wrong?" response. I was an out of control 16 year old, unhappy and not worth the effort so I was shipped back to my mom and stepdad.
As an adult, the need for affection from my "birth dad" only dissipated after I met my current boyfriend. He showed me I deserved the unconditional love this man who was there when I was born would or could never give to me. My sister never got over that need and up until the day she died she was looking and longing for it.
I have made peace with the fact that my dad doesn't care about me. I'm not wallowing in self-pity or asking for words of comfort. I just want others to know that it's not their fault if their parents don't give a shit.
Sometimes the folks who gave you life aren't worthy to be in it.
I have two dads. One who contributed DNA some years ago and one my mother married when I was a pubescent punk. My stepfather may have made some mistakes in raising us but he was there and supported us and treated us as his own blood.
The man who is partly responsible for my genetic makeup was in and out of our lives. My sister and I worshipped him. He was fun and loud and dynamic and always had gifts for us. He gave money to our baseball team for new uniforms. One birthday he showed up out of the blue dressed up as a clown. When we were around 7 and 9, he took us to Disneyland. During that trip, he left us with a strange babysitter so he could go to Mexico for the day. We would go months without seeing him even though he lived an hour and a half away but when he showed up it was absolute bliss for those precious hours.
One time in late fall/early winter, he came to pick Erin and I up in his El Camino. He sped through the side roads around our home, spraying dirt everywhere. It was thrilling and terrifying. We passed a little frozen pond and he screeched to a halt. "Let's drive over it, it'll be a blast sliding around!" he insisted it would be amazing. Erin and I had a misadventure with a little slough the previous winter and were very leery of ice. But at the same time we were terrified Dad wouldn't like us anymore if we didn't go through with it. "Maybe we should check it just in case, Dad," I recall saying. He got out of the car, poo poo-ing us and walked to the edge of the pond. As soon as he stepped on the ice his leg dropped in and he barely managed to prevent himself from falling in.
I still remember the look on his face, the classic "O" of his mouth and his eyes wide at the shock. Walking back to the car, the left leg of his jeans a waterlogged dark blue.
Looking back I know he must have been drunk or something but at the time he just seemed wild and crazy.
After he remarried and had kids, he told me that he didn't consider Erin and I his family. His wife and young sons were. I lived with them for 6 months when I was a teen and it was disastrous. Coming home with 98% on a test got the "Do you realize that 2% of what you did was wrong?" response. I was an out of control 16 year old, unhappy and not worth the effort so I was shipped back to my mom and stepdad.
As an adult, the need for affection from my "birth dad" only dissipated after I met my current boyfriend. He showed me I deserved the unconditional love this man who was there when I was born would or could never give to me. My sister never got over that need and up until the day she died she was looking and longing for it.
I have made peace with the fact that my dad doesn't care about me. I'm not wallowing in self-pity or asking for words of comfort. I just want others to know that it's not their fault if their parents don't give a shit.
Sometimes the folks who gave you life aren't worthy to be in it.