Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day
Practically within the first hour that I moved up to Utah a few years back, I met this guy that I instantly liked. A lot. Although I spent a long time developing a friendship with him and we did go on a couple of actual dates, it never turned into the relationship that I hoped it would. Instead, a friend informed me that someone else was very interested in me. Someone else that was most definitely not the man I was looking for.
On one rare evening, my father called me just to say hi. He never did that. Never. He still doesn't. But on this particular evening, he did. And we chatted for awhile, but I was really frustrated over these guys and this situation and I blurted out, "Dad, I don't like boys!"
He paused for a moment before he cautiously proceeded, "Do you like girls?"
I used to be daddy's girl. I was three when he took me to my very first Angels' game. I remember it. Not start to finish, and I certainly don't remember who they played (although I'm CERTAIN we won), but I remember images of that day and the people we sat with and accidentally stealing someone's baseball cap. When I was 6, he and I spent a day up in the snow while my mom stayed home with my brother. My dad and I had snowball fights and slid down a hill on a trash can lid or something, and when I desperately had to pee I thought I was going to get arrested if I went in the Mens' Room. When I was 7, my dad taught me how to fish and when I was 8, he drove me to my aunt's house to pick out my very first (and only) kitten. (She lived for 19 years.)
I was also 8 when my father moved out and 9 when my parents got divorced. He moved two hours away for his job and they worked out the standard every-other-weekend-and-two-weeks-in-the-summer custody arrangement. For awhile, that was okay. I was in the 4th grade that year and having a hard time with a sadistic teacher (think Miss Trunchbull from Matilda) and it was probably one of the worst years of my life.
(Honestly, I'd say it still holds that distinction.)
For awhile, the custody arrangement worked and my younger brother and I went to see him every other weekend. But then he met the woman that would become my step-mom (and she still is) (and yes, I like her a lot), and he sometimes had to switch around our weekends. Then I got involved with Job's Daughters and sometimes had things going on the weekends and I'd have to switch. Then I got into high school and had friends that had slumber parties and movie nights and fun stuff and since he didn't really seem to mind all that much anyway, the visits gradually dropped from every other weekend to every couple of weeks to once a month or so. By the time I reached my senior year, I hardly saw him at all. He had two little kids at home and not a lot of time for me and I had gotten tired of being at the bottom of his long list of priorities.
A lot of things happened after I graduated from high school and this is not the place where I want to get into the gory details. There have been times when he and I seem to get really close again, and then we back off for awhile. I don't understand it. I never really have. But that's how it is.
Today's Father's Day, of course, and I've been thinking about him a lot. I haven't called him yet and I forgot to send a card. He may not be the best dad, but I'm definitely not the best daughter, either.
Despite our difficult and sometimes tumultuous past, this morning I woke up thinking about that phone call from Utah some 8 or 9 years ago and about how freaked out I was on September 11 when I knew he was traveling on a United flight out of Boston but I wasn't sure what day. And I thought about the look in his eye when he watched Marc walk across the stage at the Loyola Law School graduation last month to accept his diploma. And I thought about the time when he and I drove home from Lake Havasu after my grandpa's funeral and how he answered every question I asked him and he let me pick whatever CDs I wanted to listen to (although he vetoed Smashmouth's Astro Lounge after the second song--he does have his limits!).
I don't like everything he's done. Sometimes, I haven't even liked him. But he's my dad. I love him. Despite his imperfections, he will always be my dad and there will always be a part of me that longs to be that little girl again; the one that was the center of his world. It's silly, I know. But that's how it is.
In the off-chance that there are any dads out there reading my blog (besides my brother, of course), I want to wish you all a Happy Father's Day. And for those of you that have dads, let them know you're thinking of them today. They aren't perfect, but I'm sure they'll be glad to know you care.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.
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Thanks for writing this. I am currently going through a very rough patch with my own dad. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out how much effort I want to put into maintaining our relationship.
ReplyDeleteI've recently decided that I'm going to take the path of forgiveness. He isn't perfect, but he is my dad. And he's trying.
Thanks for the re-affirmation that this is a good thing to do.
I know how you feel, Karen. My parents divorced when I was 18, so I never lived with him and my step-mom, and while I love my dad, we've had our ups and downs. But, I love him a lot, and we are pretty close.
ReplyDeleteI got the book yesterday and your sweet note! I am so excited. The book looks awesome!
I'm glad you called your dad. Just be thankful he's still on earth so you can talk to him. I hope your phone visit was fun!
ReplyDeleteI am not close to my Dad, and this is always a hard time of year for me, as he is kind of a jerk.
ReplyDeleteBut, I call him, and I am kind, no matter what he says---I have decided that I won't stoop down to his level.
Good on you for calling him!
I'm glad you called your dad. I'm sure it must have meant a lot to him. You never know what's going on in his mind either....he could be feeling bad about not being there as much as he could have.
ReplyDeleteMy dad and I have a very superficial relationship. I often times don't even feel like I really know him. I've been reading many blogs today with beautiful tributes written about their loving, devoted fathers and it made me sad that my dad isn't like that. Your post is the first one I've encountered today that sounds like the relationship I have with my dad. Somehow it makes me feel not so alone.
My dad died a year ago (on June 20th). This was our first Father's Day without him. My dad was one of those people that almost everyone liked. He was friendly and funny and very involved at church and in the community. To keep it brief, it was a very different person at home. Before he died, he told me he wanted me to speak at his funeral. He wanted me to give "the family perspective." After he died, I can honestly say I have never been filled with more dread than I was preparing for the talk at his funeral. Because how do you honor someone while also being honest about how crummy they were? But after it was all over, several people told me they appreciated what I had to say because I made him sound human. He could be wonderful, and he could be horrible. I have good memories, and I have bad memories. And I've found peace with that. It's okay to be ambivalent about things. I miss my dad every day. And every day, there are things I DON'T miss.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your post.
Karen, do we have the same father? It all sounds very familiar. I struggle very much with my relationship with my Dad. Things were never great, but they went severely downhill when I got married. He didn't approve of my husband or the temple (I'm a convert), and he made snide comments for several years about both. I made it clear that if it came to it, I would choose my husband over him, and basically eliminated most contact. I'll celebrate my 13th anniversary, my twins are 4, and we've slowly been rebuilding our relationship over the last 5 years. It's tough when he lives in another state and we only see each other at Christmas. I still owe him a phone call for yesterday. I was busy celebrating with my husband, and I didn't make it a priority to call him. Obviously I'm not the greatest daughter either, and I still have a long way to go.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Karen!
ReplyDeleteI sent a card, but I ended up forgetting to call my stepfather yesterday. After reading this, I know I must call him today, even though it'll be a day late.
Good job for making the phone call. :)
ReplyDelete