Father’s Day kind of sucks sometimes.
Have you ever mourned the death of a parent that has not actually died? That is my father. I have not seen him in six years in October, and I don’t plan on ever seeing him again. I miss him, but not the “him” he actually is, the him that he should have been. All the things it means to be a real Father. The recitals and performances he should have been at. The school events he should not have missed. The alcohol he should not have poured. The angry words he should not have said. The relationship we should have. I mourn for him as if he has died. For me he has died in many ways. He has chosen his way in life, and I have chosen mine. A life that does not include him anymore and never will again. I have learned that you have to remove toxicity from your life in order to thrive, even if that toxicity is your own “family”. Family is not always blood. Sometimes your family is who ends up treating you the most badly. You cannot live your life for others, you have to live it on your own terms, and for the most part, I don’t think of him.
But sometimes, once in a while, I will see something, or smell something, or hear a song, or have some good news, and I will pick up my phone, and for a ten-thousandth of a second I will go to dial his number before I realize that we don’t talk anymore. I laugh at the ridiculousness of it too. The fact that he chose the people he did over his only child. The blood of his blood. It’s unbelievable to me. But that’s the thing about selfish, arrogant, people, you cannot try and understand them because all they care about is themselves and they will usually never change.
So, to all the real fathers out there, Happy Father’s Day, thanks for stepping up, trust me, we all need you more than we say.