But there are things I need to say to you. It took me so long to finally breakdown the wall which stood between our friendship. You were the only Dad I had. I don't remember my birth father all that much. Although I am thankful for the blocked memories of my childhood, I have carried around the pain my whole life. Because of what we lived through before you, it made it so hard for me to let you into my heart.
When I first met you, I was nervous and terrified. There were so many thoughts and questions flooding my mind, making it hard to focus. I hid. I didn't want to meet you because I was afraid I would grow to love you and then you'd leave. Do you remember that day? I close my eyes and I am instantly brought back to that moment. You brought us ice cream. You drove from Sacramento to meet us and take our mom on a date. I was on edge the whole afternoon, picking out the solid chunks of cookie dough, leaving the vanilla ice cream till the end. Waiting for your date to be over, waiting to see how my mom truly felt for you. But mostly, waiting to see how I felt for you.
My heart yearned to be close to you but as a defense, I withdrew and made life hard. For that I apologize. I don't believe you will ever fully understand how much you accepting us meant. You chose to love my sister and I, not out of obligation to our mother but because you grew to love us as if we were your children. When you called me Baby Girl, I knew to the core of who I was that I truly belonged.
My favorite part of the day was dinner time. You'd come home, turn on music and pull my mom away from making dinner to dance with you. You held her tight, twirled her around and both laugh so genuinely your eyes sparkled. I watched. I saw you love. And I watched you slowly fade away. You stopped dancing, you stopped laughing. It happened seemingly so gradually that our normal consisted of you coming home from work, shutting yourself away in your office only to be bothered by one of us bringing you dinner.
You stood with me at my wedding, so nervous I shook and words could not find their way. My Dad looked at me. You looked at me and asked if I was alright. Perhaps I should have asked that of you.
I know now you weren't alright, you haven't been for years. That my life as I knew it was pretend. You showed up for my wedding, the birth of my children but you weren't fully there. We only had the shell of you while the real you was in Sacramento.
It shouldn't be hard for you to understand that you did not only betray my mom, you betrayed all of us. The life you have chosen broke so many little hearts. Hearts that believed you were their world. So many tears have been shed. So many words have been yelled and you are not here to see them, to feel their sting, to look me in the eye and tell me what is going on.
The last phone call I made to you ended with me sobbing in a voicemail. Pleading with you, telling you that I needed my Daddy. My heart was crushed and I needed my Daddy. You never called. Is this the last thing you want me to remember of you?
Already I feel those good memories fading away. Becoming overshadowed by the bad and, and I am okay with that. At the first mention of separation I struggled with how we could be a family but not. I struggled with how I would be your Baby Girl while you were not with my mom. How often would we see you? How would Birthdays and Holidays work? Now I understand. The disgusting choices you have made helped make my decision. With every lie you told, with every moment you and she took from my family, you determined the outcome. You are a person of no integrity and I do not want that kind of person in my life. I do not want a person with such twisted, deceitful morals to be in my children's life.
I do not grieve the loss of a father, I do not cry pointless tears for you. I hurt because the people I love have been hurt by you and your actions. I regret you. I regret loving you. My adoration has been wasted on a figment and I will not allow my children's love and adoration be wasted on something worthless.
I am not as gracious as my sister.
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