Sometimes I forget that my dad is dead. I know, that seems strange.
My mom and dad divorced when I was 2. My mom moved away and never looked back. I don’t really know the whole story – as each side I’ve heard is fairly different. I never heard from my dad from that day on. As I grew up I questioned about him sometimes, wondered about him often, and dreamt about him always. But honestly, I didn’t feel like it impacted me much. I didn’t know any better. He was a man I didn’t know (in reality or through stories), had (essentially) never met, and who (apparently) had no desire to meet me. My mom filled both rolls for me and I can never be more thankful or grateful for all that she did.
When I reached high school my questions about him grew bigger and my longing for meeting him grew greater. As a sophomore, it all became too much for me. I needed to know. So, I rummaged through old documents I knew my mom kept in the basement and found an old, yellow piece of paper that had what seemed to be my grandfather’s name on it. The address was in Vermont and could easily have been an old one – but I figured I had no other option. I wrote a short letter explaining myself and finally mailed it, after fretting for too long.
When I finally heard back, the letter sort of disappointed me, in a way. I’m not sure what I expected. The fairy tale, I suppose. Instead, my dad’s handwriting was almost illegible and his topics of conversation revolved around NASCAR and what drink was his favorite (Coors Lite). He shared his phone number, address, and wrote that I was welcome to come see him anytime that I wished. I was very taken aback. I hadn’t really stopped to think what my dad’s life would actually be like, or who he would really be.
After receiving the first letter, I didn’t write back. I didn’t know what to say. Shortly after that, I received a letter from my grandmother and grandfather (whom I had also never heard from). They told me a bit about themselves and requested that I keep the lines of communication with my dad open. They also sent pictures, including a few recent ones of my dad, and some old ones of the 2 of us together when I was a baby. They mentioned that when they hung stockings for the family by the tree at Christmas time, they always hung one for me as well. I sobbed for a long time after reading that.
Unfortunately, they also tried to place the blame on my mom for what happened between my parents and as the reason for my dad being absent from my life. At that point I decided I was done with the whole thing for a while. I was so angry and hurt, that I had to step back.
On the night of my 16th birthday, I got a phone call. My mom answered, asked who it was, and the person on the other line hung up without answering. They called back again a few minutes later. It was my grandmother. She asked if my dad could speak with me for my birthday. My mom was still in the dark about everything at this point, but she agreed, as long as she could listen on the other line. I don’t really remember the conversation. It was very surreal – talking to someone who was supposed to be my father, yet whom I knew less than the mailman. My mom and I had a long talk after that and I decided that communicating with my dad and his family wasn’t something I was really ready for yet.
As my independence level reached a peak in college, I decided to write to my dad again. He always requested to talk to me on the phone (as he didn’t enjoy writing letters) or asked me to visit, but I never agreed to either. I wanted to get to know my dad, I enjoyed writing to my dad, but I wasn’t ready to actually meet my dad face-to-face. We wrote many years to each other over the years. He even sent me birthday cards…something I never, ever thought I’d get from my dad.
I remember writing him a letter either before or after I got married, telling him I had always dreamt of him walking me down the aisle. Every movie I’ve ever watched with a dad walking his daughter down the aisle has made me cry. Watching my friends’ dads walk them down the aisle was even harder. And forget watching father/daughter dances…I usually had to excuse myself from the room for a bit.
Our letters became fewer as adult life took over. At some point, his good friend/neighbor, friend requested me on Facebook. She thought it would be an easier way for us to chat than writing letters. It was. We were able to talk about our past. I let him know I wasn’t mad at him anymore. We wanted so badly to meet and had started making plans to do so.
On March 21, 2013 his neighbor sent me a message asking if she could call me. I politely declined. The next morning she wrote back to let me know that my dad had a massive heart attack the day before and had passed away. He was 55. Scallop was in my arms as I read the message. He was 6 months old. I melted to the ground.
hostess / cantaloupe / 6486 posts
I kind of understand how you feel. My mom and dad were never married and my mom and I moved across country a few months after I turned one. Not long after my mom married an amazing guy who I call my dad, and for that I am so thankful. But I was always hurt by my biological dad. He would call to talk to me sometimes for a few years and then that stopped. About a once a year he’d call and talk to my mom but not ask to talk to me. That always really hurt me. Out of the blue at 15, he sent me a birthday gift. He started emailing and calling me about once a month. I told him I would talk to him but I was angry with him and he needed to know I would never call him dad. He called me sometime in the beginning of August of my 16th year. He was drunk and was asking me when school started and thought it was funny that my start date was the same as his other kids (he had a son and 2 other daughters). He told me he loved me a bunch of times and I didn’t really say anything in response. A few weeks later we got a phone call saying that he had fallen down the stairs and cracked his skull. The brain swelling was bad. About a week later, he passed. I took it way harder than I could have imagined taking the death of someone I didn’t know. My mom and I flew to his state to attend the funeral. It was there I learned that he had my name tattooed on his back. I’ll never understand his inability to form a relationship with me. I’ll probably never fully understand why his passing was/is so hard.
blogger / nectarine / 2600 posts
I can relate very much to this. My father passed away on my 31st birthday half way around the world in Taiwan. Growing up I knew my dad, he was around until y parents divorced when I was in college but our relationship wasnt always the best one. I have fond memories and I also have some not so fond ones. We came from different worlds and cultures and I still struggle a little with those issues as an adult. My father moved back home to Taiwan in college and though we werent that close the distance made it even more substantial. As an only child as well I had a hard time reconciling my feelings of hurt and anger at many things all by myself without anyone else who was on my side of understanding. Still when i had learned my dad had passed away hours earlier before I was even awake on my birthday no less it really rocked my world. I felt more alone than I ever had before. My dad had called me the week before my birthday randomly and we had a brief convo I recall and I can still hear his voice so clearly in those short sentences we shared, the last I would ever have. I sometimes email him still though I know obviously Ill never get a response now. My mom said he must have known somehow (he died suddenly of a massive heartattack as well) and thats why I got that one last phone call a week earlier, otherwise I might never even had that.
grape / 87 posts
This hits home for me as well. My father is still alive, but we have been estranged on and off for the last 14 years. He’s never met my toddler and I’m not sure what I will tell my son about him when the day comes. I grew up with him in my life and my parents didn’t divorce until after college. I too, have some great and not so great memories of him. He is a toxic person and I believe my life is better off without him in it. There is much more to being a parents than just the genetic material you pass on. My Mom has always been absolutely incredible and I consider my self extremely lucky.
wonderful olive / 19353 posts
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