About eight years ago, I was disowned by my Dad.
Not that our relationship had been stellar throughout my lifetime. It had basically come to a head and, I can't speak for him, but I remember just completely being at a loss as to what to do anymore. It was like ramming dead horses into a brick wall at the point. I didn't feel like he had ever known me, much less like he had ever wanted to know me. There had been things said that made me feel he didn't feel I would or could be successful with my passions and that I should just go to business school and well, make my life a living hell so I could make a few bucks and die early. I never knew what was going on with me because he would never talk to me. The most we spoke was in the form of idle chit chat. A lot of it was awkward.
So I connected all ties with my paternal side of the family which means I also stopped speaking to my sister. I had good reason for this as well but I won't go into it. It isn't the point right now.
I never celebrate Father's Day because, well, I had pretty much let him go into some great beyond and accepted the loss. However, last week I was thinking about a lot of things. For instance, I was starting to get hit by the fact that I was finally doing all the things I wanted to do. I'd gotten my own art show. I'd been entering juried art shows in Denver at various galleries and actually getting into some of the shows. Furthermore, I've been evolving my work, the mark of any good artist, into more mediums and really expressing my life in more and more ways. I am getting my Vagus Nerve Stimulator for my Epilepsy which has been and well, continues to be a long road (though there is a destination in sight now) and this summer my Grandfather died.
I started thinking that no matter who my Dad was, surely he would want to know his child was doing okay. Even if we didn't renew our relationship. I was scared he would think I was bugging him for back child support again or wanting money or to tell him off because, in the past that's kind of how it went.
It was easier to find him than I thought.
I had a starting place in that we had received a letter from him from Phoenix several years ago. So I called information there. His number was listed in the suburb of Mesa. In the past few years I'd visited Mesa five or six times and knew he was possibly close by but wasn't ready to find him.
What I didn't know is that he'd been trying to find me for several years.
When he called back the next day, it was a different man who called. Sure it was the guy who I referred to above. But it wasn't my Father, it was my Dad. There's a difference. He was so happy I called and he said, "And on Father's Day weekend..." That's when I realized that it was indeed that time of year. How fortuitous. We spoke for quite awhile and he wanted to see my art, read my writing. He wanted to meet me. He told me about how he almost died and was laying in a hospital bed thinking about me. I could hear the changes in his voice and it made me so happy. Wounds that had been there since I was a small girl began to heal instantly. The Dad that played Janis Joplin and Pink Floyd tapes while we bumped along the country road by our old schoolhouse home was on the other end of the line telling me about the music he listened to. I couldn't believe it. Talking about music with my Dad! He even recommended an artist to me. Everyone go look up Sarah Brightman because my Dad says she has a beautiful voice. We talked about movies a bit too and how my Aunt Linda has a zillion of them. He and my Uncle have become quite close. He works for him and my Dad "has tried to take most of the stress out of my life." If you only knew what a 180 that is for him, you would know why I know miracles really exist.
I told him it isn't everyday things like this happen. I never thought it would. Truly in my head I thought he would die lonely and alone. Thus, I told him what a big person it took to change their life completely and own up to their mistakes and basically apologize for what amounts to a lot of things that affected a lot of my life. However, the words "I'm sorry" go a long, long way in this instance.
He has developed respect for me and an interest in me as a person. For the first time in my life, I truly feel like he means it when he says he loves me.
Maybe everyone takes theirs for granted but I never really had one, even when I was a kid.
But now I have a Dad.
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