After a hard year of nothing good, a year that came after another two filled with nothing good (save a few notable exceptions), I saw and said good bye to my Dad today. One year to the day since his calling the police on the love of my life, since telling great ghastly, life-altering lies to "the authorities," to a lawyer, to his wife, to me, to everyone, we met at a cafe, I said my peace (my many pieces, perhaps), and bid him farewell.
His morning message said "Hi, Amber, it's your Bio Dad..." which is a very weird thing to say. He followed this up with the fact that he would be in town for the rest of the day and the following morning (though he had already been here for nearly a week) and did I want to get together for a cup of tea? Which also struck me as a weird thing to say. The entire message = very weird. It's saved on my phone, if you care to listen. I value your opinion.
I'm not really sure why I decided to see him in the end. But I found myself on the phone, returning the stilted message, agreeing to meet if he could make in the next hour. Ten minutes later, Chai in hand, there we are sitting across from each other as if we had anything else in common but the mysterious coding that produced this particular nose, fair skin and graying strawberry hair.
Essentially I told him that I wasn't interested in investing in our relationship any longer, that I regret the amount of time and energy I'd put in over the course of my life (from early childhood on up to a year ago) trying to bridge the giant gaps between the two of us, as well as between me and his wife. I reiterated something I'd said last year, that I was glad to have at least seen behind the curtain and to know who they both were and what they were capable of (not just how they treated me or Joosh, but their employees, other family, friends, John Q. Public of their clientel), though I wish the lesson could have been shorter and less drawn out. I am dense, or naive, too hopeful and benefit-of-the-doubt-y, or probably all of the above. I said that while I wish things would have worked out differently, overall I am exceedingly happy to have stepped off the "Scott and Jeanne Showboat." Life is good on this side of the shitstorm-filled river.
In a nutshell, he disagreed with my perspective, told me that he has "deep and connected relationships with lots of people" and would like to have one with me. However, survey says: not possible. And I told him as such.
One moment that will live forever in my memory of this meeting is when I said that some people - Joosh, for example - only have one parent, and it's up to that one parent to be somewhat selfless in order to provide everything for their children, raise them up as best they can, etc. So here I am, with a whole bevy of parental units, the majority of whom end up being shockingly narcissistic, self-centered, not at all focused on their children, and what are the statistical odds of that happening? His reaction? Nope, not denial. He totally laughed, and then smirked in this strange shoulder-shrugging, "what can you do?" sort of agreement. Christ. Just like the time he offered up "Well she knew who I was when she married me, what did she think was going to change with a ring?" when I asked why he was such a cheater (blatant, blatant, cheater), as if it was matter of poor judgment on his wife's part, rather than a fuckface flaw of his.
So yeah. What can I say? Just what I said to him, which is that he's my father, I'll always love him for that reason, but that I'm removing myself from the dysfunction junction that is the life he leads and leaving the inadequate and unhealthy relationship dynamic until further notice. I know they say that blood is thicker than water, and you can choose your friends, but you can't choose family, and yadda yadda yadda, but with respect to the institution of familyhood, I am opting to disagree. Life is too damn short to spend in on this kind of treadmill.
His morning message said "Hi, Amber, it's your Bio Dad..." which is a very weird thing to say. He followed this up with the fact that he would be in town for the rest of the day and the following morning (though he had already been here for nearly a week) and did I want to get together for a cup of tea? Which also struck me as a weird thing to say. The entire message = very weird. It's saved on my phone, if you care to listen. I value your opinion.
I'm not really sure why I decided to see him in the end. But I found myself on the phone, returning the stilted message, agreeing to meet if he could make in the next hour. Ten minutes later, Chai in hand, there we are sitting across from each other as if we had anything else in common but the mysterious coding that produced this particular nose, fair skin and graying strawberry hair.
Essentially I told him that I wasn't interested in investing in our relationship any longer, that I regret the amount of time and energy I'd put in over the course of my life (from early childhood on up to a year ago) trying to bridge the giant gaps between the two of us, as well as between me and his wife. I reiterated something I'd said last year, that I was glad to have at least seen behind the curtain and to know who they both were and what they were capable of (not just how they treated me or Joosh, but their employees, other family, friends, John Q. Public of their clientel), though I wish the lesson could have been shorter and less drawn out. I am dense, or naive, too hopeful and benefit-of-the-doubt-y, or probably all of the above. I said that while I wish things would have worked out differently, overall I am exceedingly happy to have stepped off the "Scott and Jeanne Showboat." Life is good on this side of the shitstorm-filled river.
In a nutshell, he disagreed with my perspective, told me that he has "deep and connected relationships with lots of people" and would like to have one with me. However, survey says: not possible. And I told him as such.
One moment that will live forever in my memory of this meeting is when I said that some people - Joosh, for example - only have one parent, and it's up to that one parent to be somewhat selfless in order to provide everything for their children, raise them up as best they can, etc. So here I am, with a whole bevy of parental units, the majority of whom end up being shockingly narcissistic, self-centered, not at all focused on their children, and what are the statistical odds of that happening? His reaction? Nope, not denial. He totally laughed, and then smirked in this strange shoulder-shrugging, "what can you do?" sort of agreement. Christ. Just like the time he offered up "Well she knew who I was when she married me, what did she think was going to change with a ring?" when I asked why he was such a cheater (blatant, blatant, cheater), as if it was matter of poor judgment on his wife's part, rather than a fuckface flaw of his.
So yeah. What can I say? Just what I said to him, which is that he's my father, I'll always love him for that reason, but that I'm removing myself from the dysfunction junction that is the life he leads and leaving the inadequate and unhealthy relationship dynamic until further notice. I know they say that blood is thicker than water, and you can choose your friends, but you can't choose family, and yadda yadda yadda, but with respect to the institution of familyhood, I am opting to disagree. Life is too damn short to spend in on this kind of treadmill.
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