Daddy’s Girl

There are some things you can never understand if you’ve never had a “deadbeat dad.” And you should be thankful for it. I wish I, too, didn’t understand it, but such is life. You have the privilege of believing in somebody and I can’t even fault you for it. Meanwhile, I stopped believing a long time ago.

My mother had an amazing father who was taken away from her too soon. But he was an amazing father. He was her best friend. I love to hear her talk about him. She sounds so happy in those memories. So when she thinks I’m waiting for my own to make some sort of grand gesture or to even just show up, I understand. Because that’s her story. That’s what she knew. So how could a daughter not long for such things from a father? Spoiler alert: I don’t.

Honestly, I never want those people to understand where I’m coming from. It’s better on your side. Never understand what it’s like to stop waiting. Stop believing. Stop hoping. I stopped a long time ago. It’ll sound sad to you, but I’m not even sad. I understand. I recognize the hands I’ve been dealt and I’ve made peace with it. I’m not waiting for someone to show up. I’m not waiting for someone to magically provide something they haven’t provided for the past 25 years. I’m fine. This is my life & I get it. I understand the hand I was dealt.

It’s crazy because I’m not even mad at him for it. My aunt keeps urging me towards forgiveness. The fact that I let a man who never deserved access to me have access to me wasn’t forgiveness? I forgave my dad a long time ago. I kept in contact with him. I threw him birthday parties. I included him in everything. I let him walk me down the aisle at my wedding. Is that not forgiveness? I forgave someone who never apologized, who never asked for forgiveness. Even against the better judgment of the people I loved most in my life (the ones who stayed). I still forgave. He’s still forgiven.

For my health, I set a boundary two months ago. For the sake of my mind & my body & my growing child, I set a boundary that you don’t get access to me if you’re going to be toxic. I didn’t have the capacity at the time to deal with toxicity. To be told that I, as an 11 year old child, left him, an adult. To be railroaded into pity because someone decided this was a good time to wallow in the bad decisions they’ve made. Not taking into account at all what their daughter was going through. And that’s when it hit me… he doesn’t care. But whatever. I didn’t have the capacity so I set a boundary.

If it was just me, I’d probably never talk to him again. We only talk out of some sort of obligation. Like that’s your dad, you’re supposed to talk to him, right? You still have a living father when so many other people don’t. You talk to them if they’re here. But why? We don’t have a real relationship anyway. We small talk. We talk about sports. He asks me about things going on with everyone else: my siblings & niece & nephew (that he could call himself). Very superficial conversation.

I don’t even know what dads & daughters talk about. Is there deeper conversation or is it all this way? Maybe because I’m beginning to see that this isn’t the norm… maybe that’s part of why I’m so over it.