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https://www.psychforums.com/blog/tmc115/words_on_my_father_b-11309_sid-837a2ba0edc5a64688b0a4609c916f14.html |
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| Author: | tmc115 [ Wed Aug 09, 2017 9:14 pm ] |
| Blog Subject: | Words On My Father |
Most of my gripe is turned toward my mother, but there’s blame enough for everyone. I would also like to take a moment to praise her for taking on the responsibility of raising me. She made sure I was clothed, fed, and educated. She once bought me a limousine ride for a birthday. She paid for my martial arts lessons that kept me from falling into a deeper pit than I might have. A lot of times we ate dinner as a family, I always cherished those times as very special, and she deserves praise for that. When I was 5 my parents divorced. I don’t have many memories of my parents before then. I remember the basement flooding and watching my dad wade around in it. I remember playing with Light-Brite and my parents laughing at something I said or was on TV and chuckling because I didn’t understand what was so darned funny. I remember seeing fish my Dad caught in the sink. I don’t recall any turmoil except when I witnessed an argument my parents having. I don’t recall any words, but I remember my dad throwing his coffee mug and it breaking. I remember running up the stairs and being afraid I’d be in trouble for listening in. My life was sort of a Grimm’s Fairy tale when I was living with both my parents. There was a façade of whimsy and fun, but there was a darkness always at the edges that you couldn’t really put your finger on. I look back on that part of my life as one where I was most carefree and happy, but I know there were things that weren’t right. I don’t have a lot of memories with my dad and mom together. I remember being alone a lot. When the day came to separate I remember them asking me who I wanted to live with, and I said mom because she is living with gramma and I want to be with her too. My mother asserts that this is a false memory. That could be true, but she’s claimed other memories of mine were false when they put her in a bad light, only later come to find videos corroborating my testimony. So began the start of a three-year period of my life where I live with my mom, gramma, uncle Rodney, his wife, and son. It’s sortof like my dad just kindof winked out of my life. No, he didn’t disappear; he was present but never truly there. He would ALWAYS be there for my special occasions, and would take me to the movies or the park fairly regularly. Often we would go to his mother’s house and we would play cards. Even though he always made an effort to be in my life he never really made an attempt to be part of my life. Which, as a child, I didn’t expect anything different. From a very early age I remember thinking, ‘ it is my job to make my parent’s life easier by being as unobtrusive as possible.’ Even though my dad was kind and funny, most of the time he was very inward-looking and pensive. I never really talked about myself, because he never talked about himself, and he never tried to get me to talk about myself. Whenever we went anywhere no matter how long the drive we rarely spoke a word to each other. Whenever I was part of something special: play, concert, or graduation dad would always come to see me. I remember feeling guilty for making him drive out all that way. I felt like he was fulfilling obligations even though he was always very supportive and kind. He rarely spoke to anyone very long and left as soon as he politely could. I felt like such a worthless daughter that I couldn’t make him more comfortable. As I got older I started to notice how he almost never tried to call me. And it became harder and harder to communicate with him. My father died from complication of lymphoma when I was 23. I have a lot of guilt attached to our relationship. I feel like the distance between us was my fault. He used to take me fishing quite a bit. As I got older I became very frustrated and angry and the last fishing trip he took me on I had a $!*ty attitude for no reason. He got pretty fed up with me and never took me fishing again. My mom and grandmother always found their reasons for being in the acceptance of men. As a child of 10 or so I may have had an Oedipal attraction to my father. Not because I wanted him sexually, but because I wanted to be loved. This attraction caused me great shame. Shame for making a fool of myself, for making him uncomfortable, for not succeeding, for failing, for trying at all, and for not having anything else. It’s been over 8 years since my dad passed away and I’ve hardly missed him. I’ve missed missing him. I wish we were more than two warm bodies sitting next to each other. I wish I knew more about him. I wish he could’ve bonded with me like he did with his two older sons. But, frankly, I just know enough about him to miss him. |
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