My Father And Me

Folding the napkin I rolled up into a ring, over and over again around my finger, the feelings of true despair set in.
Across the table from me sat my father. So content, eating his burger and fries. I wished so desperately that I wasn't crawling out of my skin. No amount of praying for patience was going to change this moment.


I have sat with him many times, especially in his favorite haunt, "Apollo's".
This time, the hands on the clock were moving SLOWLY backwards. I wanted so much to give him this gift for Christmas.
It wasn't working like it used to. I could sit for hours patiently. I couldn't figure out the problem.
All I felt was an unbearably large hole where my heart was. He seemed happy as a clam eating the last of his french fries.

He was in festive spirits, rattling off the list of names of different relatives and their lives.
Asking me about Matt and Katie, {my children} and my husband.


Skirting any issues that might bring up real, honest to goodness feelings.
My father is a sweet man, but has always lacked courage and fortitude.
He has never stood up for anything in my life. Or my brothers or sisters that I know of.
It hit me today, sitting with him. It hit with a thud!


He never asks about ME. He asks about what the going's on in my family are, but not mine.
I could barely breathe. I really listened as he rattled off more stats on everyone of my brothers and sisters lives.
Hell, Joanne down the street, Madeline's daughter who lost 65 pounds was sure getting a lot of air time.

The real hurt from stripping it all away- this man named "Father," knew absolutely nothing about me.
The only thing that was known was the service I provided.
I made him feel good. I cared about him, listened, sat with him, was a fairly decent daughter.

This was hitting me today on such a gut level. The same courtesy had not been extended to me. I had to find my own way.
I had no example of how to be strong, follow through. Learn how to trust men. I don't ever remember being listened to. I remember being invisible. Frightened.

The years of having to fend for ourselves, while our mother feigned protection. The girls, my sisters.
Walking home from dances at midnight by myself because dad had "parked" the car already.
That was life.I do not feel anger at this man anymore.
I feel sadness for myself, for my sisters. For thinking we were never good enough to have a dad want to make sure
we were safe and sound. For feeling defective. Thinking somehow his rage, disappointment, lack of
accomplishment was somehow our doing.


The worst feeling of all, inferior to our brothers.
In the end, it worked out for us. We turned out to be quite strong little ladies.
We bought our own cars, yet in the pain of not having things paid for us, we learned, we grew.

I can't say too much has changed in my family, but I have. My sisters have.
We love our dad the best way we know how, in the present. He is a sweet man.
The hole never get's filled being around him. His neediness is great.
It can swallow me whole if not vigilant.

All that I can work on now, patience and forgiveness with him. I love him.
It is difficult on certain days to know he will never have a need to know about me, my life.

Just the service I provide. maybe that is just how it works. I have no idea. I think maybe he never had any of it to give in the first place. I think I have always had awfully high hopes.

I don't think those high hopes are a bad thing. They have just taken me into my twenty sixth year of marriage, with the man I
love. the man who would not dream, for one second of leaving his children stranded anywhere.
They have always had a ride. He has always stood up for them and what is right.


Maybe by seeing what I didn't get, I searched for what I needed. I know my dad probably looks back at his life with a fair amount of regret. I'm choosing hard as i might, to dig deep, and remember the sweet times.
Every time I let go and tell the truth a little bit more, i make that reality possible.