Today is Father's Day.
I'm sitting here, debating on wether or not I should text my dad.
We barely speak. Indeed, it only seems that we do when holidays or other social gatherings happen to put us in the same room. It's always awkward. We don't know how to handle each other.
He doesn't really believe everything his wife did to us. And he's told me before that he would choose her over us.
And I haven't entirely forgiven him, even though I know that he's just as much of a victim of her, too.
How do you have a relationship, each thinking that the other was in the wrong?
I cut him out of my life at age 13. The relief of not having to deal with the abuse anymore was marred by the fact that I also inadvertently lost my grandparents as well. My dad's wife had poisoned them against me.
I had to live with the guilt that my middle sister was now going to his house without me. She had no defense against them anymore. That still haunts me to this day. What if I would have kept going? Would she be in a better mental state today? But what would have happened to me? Would I have survived it?
I tried to mend things by inviting him to my high school graduation. *Only* him. He brought his wife. I spotted her when my grandparents were walking towards me. My grandma (mom's side) tried to hold me in place and keep me calm. I tore away from her and bolted. I couldn't face my dad's wife.
My dad's parents thought I was running from them. My grandfather swore he was done and left. My grandmother asked my grandma if she thought that things would ever work out. Grandma told her to just give me time.
My dad's sister, my wonderful aunt who had defended me so often before, hunted me down and told me I was an ungrateful bitch.
I don't have any pictures with my friends from after graduation at the school because I was locked in the bathroom, crying.
I battled with myself for years after that, trying to decide if I wanted to try and mend things with my grandparents. I missed them. I missed going to Great Trails and having Christmas with them. They missed my college years. They had missed my entire courtship with John. They missed our engagement, our wedding. Us buying a house.
I finally decided to try at my sister's graduation party. I sat and talked with them for at least an hour. It worked out well for all of us, though they made it clear that I should try and talk to my dad again. And I did.
And now, here we are, in this awkward state of affairs.
Do I text my dad or not?
He seems fine and even fun to talk to when his wife isn't around. But when she is, the tension is there again.
Even now, years later, when I see her, the panic floods me. I feel like I'm drowning with no hope of survival. I'm a small child again with no one to protect me.
I can usually deal with it if John's with me. I can hide my face in his shoulder and drown out the rest of the world.
I have done my part to try and maintain a relationship with him now. I've shown him our home. He gave me their old stove when ours was on the fritz. I've seen their house. Every time we talk, I try to be polite and exuberant. Show that I'm happy.
But through all that, her presence has invaded and tainted anything good that might happen.
When I went to see their new house, the first thing she said to me was, "Should have saved some cleaning for you." I told her I would have just turned around and left. I have my own home to care for.
She and I are always silently competing, it seems. She likes to play at being the rich socialite. The more something costs, the better. I'm a thrift store and garage sale sort of girl.
She wants a new, bigger house every year. We're comfortable staying put in our fixer-upper.
She likes to admonish me when I have a different opinion than her.
She thinks she still has control over me. I pretend she doesn't.
Do I text him or not?
I had other people in my life to fulfill the "dad" role. My step-dad loved us as much as he does my half-sister. (It feels weird to call her that). Even though he and my mom are separated, he still cares for us. In fact, he lives with us. We're still family.
Papa Jim has been wonderful, too. We love to visit with him and Grandma Tina. We've even started camping at Great Trails again with them. It's one of my favorite times of the year now. I now have another set of wonderful grandparents that I know love me. We can acknowledge the lost years with a certain sadness, but still smile about the future we have now.
And I don't think there are enough wonderful words to describe my Grandpa Pat. Handy man, best friend, bails-us-out when things are bad, mechanic, favorite lunch date, debate partner, my greatest defender, everything. Him and my Grandma Pat have done and still do so much for us. I could never repay them. For all intents and purposes, those two wonderful people are my second parents. The love they have shown to me, my sisters, John, and even to my friends over the years is incredible. If I can show half as much love and caring to the world as they have, I'd consider myself to be a very lucky person.
I have known love and laughter from many wonderful father-figures in my life. So why should I be worried about what dad thinks?
Do I text him or not?
For all the great leaps forward in my relationship with my dad's parents, I still am so terrified to lose them again. I'm convinced I'll slip up somewhere and they'll start hating me.
I'll get busy with life and not visit for a while and when we do go back and see them, I think that they're mad at me.
John tells me I'm just being silly. Everything was fine.
But I don't see it like that. I think I'm bothering them, so I don't go see them again for a while. And the cycle starts over.
I know trying to maintain a relationship with dad would help, but I don't know if dad really cares if I talk to him or not.
I try to think positively. Maybe if I text him, things can improve. I'm showing that I'm willing to put in effort for this relationship. But then I remember that he didn't even text either me or my sister on our birthdays.
Do I text him or not?
"Hey! Happy father's day! :)"
I send it.
"Thank you"
Nothing will change. We'll still be awkward at gatherings. But at least I'm trying.
