Tuesday, August 12, 2008


Here's what I have pulled from myself in the last few hours, with the help of my always wise best friend, April.

I'm already grieving the loss of my father. Not of him exactly, but the loss of the IDEA of him. Because even if he is alive and we have a less than stellar realtionship, at least he is alive and the possibility exists that we would one day have the relationship that I NEED.

Turth be told, I will never have that. Never have, and never will. It won't happen for me. Acceptance of this is something I need to create. I need to let go of that need. It is hard as hell, and agonizing. It is also necessary for me to move on.

Sure, I should have given up years ago. But I didn't, because I had hope. This is a small childish need, the need for a parent, for love, and for acceptance. But we all carry it, and it is hardwired into our psyche to feel this way. I kept hoping- for him to put down the bottle, for him to starighten up, for him to call and say "I am sorry." I thought when he saw my daughter's face...well, that it would light up something in him mine never did.

I wanted the fairytale dad, the tv dad, the dad all of my friends seem to have. I wanted the idea of what a father is. Mine will never fufill that role.

I love the idea of him, but not the person he truly is. I love the idea of a "daddy", but it isn't my reality. My reality is that I was born to two very selfish people who could not provide for any of my needs- emotional, physical, spiritual. The reality is my father never really tried to parent me.

I have to accept that he is near death. Any chance I had is gone. Oh, there may be a tearful goodbye, but there will never be honesty between us. Not real honesty.

Obviously he has given up on life. You don't have a wound like he does and care if you live or die. He's done. It's just a matter of his body letting him go now. The realization of this is what has obliterated me. My time for having a chance at a relationship with him is gone.

So, I have to enter this new reality. I have to accept that he doesn't want to know my true face, hear the truth from my point of view. He wants to die in denial. This is his choice, and I know that he has the right to choose it.

But my heart will carry this until I die. It is up to me how I use it, how I turn it to either help or hinder me. But truthfully, I can't even think about that now.

Because right now, I just have to hurt. I have to feel this way until I can figure it all out, put the pieces together into a picture I can recognize.

What will my life look like when I am an orphan? What will my christmas look like without my father in the pictures? What will the rest of Lily's life look like, without her grandfather at her birthdays, her soccer games, her graduation?

Not much will change, I suppose. I will be a little more burdened, a little more wise. I will have the task of mourning both of my parents before I am out of my early 30's. I will lose the tenuous connection I have to my brothers and sister.

But it will go on, as it always has. Because what choice do I have?