My father passed away on Father's day weekend. It was unexpected. He hadn't been sick or in the hospital. He just went to bed and didn't wake up. He was 65.
I wasn't sure how to feel about the news. I hadn't seen my dad in nine years. How are you suppose to grieve for an estranged parent? My first reaction was shocked numbness. I didn't really feel anything. And then I wept. My husband held me as I cried. I didn't really cry for the lose of a father. I couldn't really miss something I haven't had for the majority of my life. I mourned for the loss of what could have been...what should have been.
My parents divorced when I was ten. There were weekend visits with my dad, completely facilitated by my mom. My dad spent most of those weekends drinking with his friends, leaving us kids to our own devices. He lived on a 100 acres of land...I guess he figured we couldn't get into much trouble on our own. Between that and the missed holidays, it didn't take long for me to begin to understand that this whole fathering business just wasn't for my dad. And by the time I was seventeen, my dad had left the state...and he didn't leave a forwarding address. That pretty much put a period on my relationship with my dad.
I was angry at him for a really long time.
But my dad was who he was. I just wish that who he was would have had something to do with me or any of his kids. He never saw the need to change himself, or grow himself, to fit the role of "Father". And that is what I mourn for. The fact that he couldn't step up into the roll of being the dad we deserved.
For as often as I might say my dad was a terrible dad, I could also tell you that he was a great guy. Sometimes I wish I could have known him outside of a father-daughter dynamic. He was funny and easy going. He had a big smile and a great laugh. He enjoyed fishing, his rum and coke, and his smokes. He was true to himself, always.
My parents divorced when I was ten. There were weekend visits with my dad, completely facilitated by my mom. My dad spent most of those weekends drinking with his friends, leaving us kids to our own devices. He lived on a 100 acres of land...I guess he figured we couldn't get into much trouble on our own. Between that and the missed holidays, it didn't take long for me to begin to understand that this whole fathering business just wasn't for my dad. And by the time I was seventeen, my dad had left the state...and he didn't leave a forwarding address. That pretty much put a period on my relationship with my dad.
I was angry at him for a really long time.
But my dad was who he was. I just wish that who he was would have had something to do with me or any of his kids. He never saw the need to change himself, or grow himself, to fit the role of "Father". And that is what I mourn for. The fact that he couldn't step up into the roll of being the dad we deserved.
For as often as I might say my dad was a terrible dad, I could also tell you that he was a great guy. Sometimes I wish I could have known him outside of a father-daughter dynamic. He was funny and easy going. He had a big smile and a great laugh. He enjoyed fishing, his rum and coke, and his smokes. He was true to himself, always.
