My dad, well, my birth father. This blog is going to be honest, hard, and to the core i hope. I say that now, but have only just started to write it.
If you are easily upset, this blog may upset you - but i have to get this off my mind. I can probably say that when my dad passes, i will shed tears - not for the loss of him, but for what he lost in life - due to his own choices. I will not fly to England for his funeral; i will not grieve his death; i will not wish "what if?"; i will just say goodbye quietly in my own way, and move on. Boy i sound so brave - will this be what i do when he goes - or will i be a quivering piece of jello.
I have few real strong, happy memories about growing up with my dad and a lot of 'just memories'. And please, these are only my memories and impressions, not my sisters, my mums or anyone else's. My sisters may remember things differently - so i am not writing this to upset anyone.
I remember him being away a lot driving the coaches; i remember him calling me Fred cos he so wanted a son; i remember having to be quiet on Sunday afternoons so he could have his nap; i remember him telling us he was going away cos mummy and daddy didn't love each other anymore; i remember the bed i was sitting on when he left my mum; i remember when us girls would fight (after he had left) and my mum could not just handle it anymore, she would call him for help - he would tell her no, and would not help; i remember him picking us up on the occasional weekend; i remember him not fighting for us not to go when we left for Canada; i remember fondly the Royal Tournament he would take us too; i remember fondly him working in the cellar on his woodwork.
I think the toughest thing i will ever remember is also one of the turning points in my relationship with him. My younger sister had opened her heart and home to him here in Canada, and he had come over for a while to live. While he was here i wanted the answer to some questions, so i asked them.
I asked why he let us leave England so easily - "cos i couldn't, and didn't want to raise you, so you had to go with your mum".
Why i feel like he never really loved me "cos you were a girl, if you were a boy, things would have been different"
Why he tried to commit suicide twice when mum wanted him to leave "i just wanted it to be me and mummy, no kids - i would have stayed forever"
There were many more questions that had answers that just confirmed to me that he probably should have had none, or just one child. For a man that wanted a son, he had three daughters. And by the time my little sister came along, he had no love left for any of us, it was like we were a hinderance as we grew up.
So will i cry when he finally gets his wish, and passes on? I don't know. I want to be tough and prove that he didn't matter to me - but did he? I want to be a bitch and say 'you didn't love me, why should i love you" but can I? I want to say "you were never a father to me" but was he? Did he know how to be? was he capable of loving us kids? As the youngest of 11 kids did he know what the love of a parent really was? Am I punishing him for something he had no control over? Am i even punishing him, does he even really care what i think?
so the next few weeks (that is what they think he has left) will be an emotional roller coaster for me i think. Some days i may feel sad, some mad, some indifferent. But i know that my children will never have to feel this way - they know we love them, in fact they are sitting with me right now, sharing the couch, sharing the stories of their day. When i think of what my dad has missed out on - i pity him.
I wish him God Speed, i hope he finds peace with his decisions. He is not a nasty man, he is just a sad man, he is my father.
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