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*It's always a good idea to isolate part of your audience. Ima do it anyway...*
If your dad is apart of your life; just fuck off. I love you, but fuck off. There are a variety of scenarios where a dad just wouldn’t be there. Even if he wanted to be. My brain has carried around his stupid eye color; my eye color and the funeral glue shut to his eyelids longer than I actually got to know the guy.
I don’t know the guy. And maybe, it’d be easier, if I could pretend he would've been like my uncle…but similarly to my sister and I…they were the complete opposites. Although, I wouldn’t be a little pussy and the day after, tell my mom the wrong son died, even though she deserves to hear that and it probably is true if it were to happen.
I dreamt about my stupid-dead-dad last night. Like everything was clear as day in the dream. His black hair thinning, his 6 ft 3 inch frame in the doorway, (according to David, that is an abnormal height for a white guy. They rarely can fill it out, look at my brother!) his stupid eye shape; my stupid eye shape, looking back at me with that crinkled up paper smile I can never get to fully reach my own eyes. Ever. Show off.
He was a show off. The best dad at the park. Flinging us up in the air like bright green pea pods, laughing like the jolly green giant himself. Meanwhile, the rest of the parents sat on benches, malcontent by some work event coming up. The other kids crowded around us, yearning for a turn. And sometimes, he’d spin those kids around too. Although, most of them were not at all prepared to be spun around the metal-merry-go-round thirty miles per hour like we were. One kid literally flew off. How my dad never got sued by a yuppy parent is beyond me?
In the dream, I confronted my dad. I always confront him when he shows up. Usually to beg him to come home. Mom can’t handle this shit without you, get your ass back home! Please! He usually has some pretty convincing arguments as to why he can’t come home. He’s one of God’s little helpers now. There’s an Ukrainian boy who needs a father figure…etc, etc. And then I usually miniaturize into my barely turned 11 year old self and crawl into his lap and sob uncontrollably until I wake up.
This time though, he was cool with leaving me. No excuses. No reason. He just didn’t want to be apart of my life. I then childish began to argue, then why did you marry someone who so clearly couldn’t and wouldn’t handle protecting and supporting a child (3 times over)?! Shoulder shrugs all the way. He just didn’t care. In the dream, apparently he had been alive this whole time. Drinking. Doing whatever the fuck he wanted. While I got to live less badass parallels to that of Chloe Price.
It felt good to scream at him and tell him what a horrible father he was. Kind of like what I got to do with my mom. I’m just so tired of not knowing and still having to care for this long. It almost would just be easier knowing how his life would've played out. Who he really was as a person. My mom is sworn to secrecy…she literally can’t say what he was even like before, let alone theorize about the future. She was there that night. The literal Simba cub to a stone dead Mufasa; and yes, my life is also a much lamer parallel to that story too. I called her up immediately after the dream. Crying and explaining it all with a lot less dark humor. Her response: “Maybe, he just came for a visit?” Cue the Home Improvement sound. She just can’t. There is so much she just can’t do. Oftentimes, I picture a much older me wheeling her frail, lifelong-semi-anorexic body out to sea and just leaving her there, catatonic; to stare at the waves. That’s a potential ending for me.
Well, fuck you. That’s all I have. Figure I need to vomit it all out somewhere. Now, I’ll eat cantaloupe and pretend I’m not dying for a couple of hours. If you could also leave some of your own dead dad or bastardized father stories in the comments section, that would be much appreciated. ♥
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ⒶndyⒶnarchy
In a way I envy you, perhaps your Dad was a great fucking person. But in the event that he wasn't, it spared you knowing (I assume so based on your writing). If mine passed when I was young, I wouldn't have realized what an absolute shit he was. I'm sure my Mom would have spared me that. He enjoyed his career, cocaine and fucking everything that walked too much to care about the wife and child he had. The 80s/90s and his career have long passed and it seems he's trying to make up for it; But he just can't be a normal, caring, feeling person. He tries, but I have to be real with myself...the guy is a sociopath. It's only when others are looking. And that won't ever change. The validation and pride a child wants from his father will forever be elusive to me. I realized several years ago that I can't turn him into the Dad he should be...or rather the Dad that I want him to be. I can't imagine the struggle you deal with. Being left to dreams and conjecture. If it were me, I would leave my impressions of my Dad's personality where they were left when he departed this Earth. Anything else is just torture. In a way, I can relate though. The Dad that I wish I had was captured in a pose for the camera. It transcends the abuse endured during the brief periods I was around him. Perhaps I should leave him there, where he was. Maybe then I can move on. Life is what it is. Just a bunch of shit, experiences and memories that make up the being that is you. In a way, we've all experienced trauma...some worse than others. I am sorry for yours and you have my sincerest wish for healing. If I'm totally off base, please tell me to fuck off.
idk. i'm extra bitter because i feel like i got to experience both sides of the parental abandonment coin. But i guess that's cheap of me to say. I felt real betrayed by my mom. and whenever she tells me she did her best (when, choosing your boyfriend over your teenage daughter is never your best, i was constantly being thrown out and even arrested by my mom and her right wing psycho of a boyfriend) i want to start screaming. but whatever, maybe that was actually her best. it's just annoying to lose out on the saner parent, ya know? i mean...i'm sure he would've came with his own shit...but it would've been nice to have some sort of place to go i guess during those critical years...even if it were only emotionally. Even my grandparents were like nah...you good there with that lady.
i guess...i'm fine now. but the scars are real. your dad sounds awful. nobody should have to deal with a parent like that ever. i wish people were more thoughtful in procreation...but i guess we're all dumb stupid animals...ya know? i guess, the newer generations are at least taking full advantage of their twenties now before bringing an ultimately unwanted youth into this world for a potential 75+ years. parents are difficult...because it's like you want to keep loving them...giving a shit about them...but they're people. and most of the time they're real broken, fucked up, stupid people. it sucks.
by Kathleen; ; Report
also you were fuckin' adorable
by Kathleen; ; Report
That's really shitty. I was kicked out by my mom, but at least I had my grandparents to take me in. I'm sorry you had to deal with that. When you're a kid, in your eyes, your parents are god-like. It's brutal when you discover that they aren't. My heart goes out to you. I wish I could have been friends with you back then. Many of my fellow teens spent nights and days sleeping and existing in our spare room away from their shit and abusive parents.
"would you like me to buy you a puppy?" Lol. He's way in tune with my dark sense of humor and knows how brutal life can be. I never lie to him. But I could be better.
I wish I could say that I was better than and more responsible than most people procreating. My son is a teenager and I have custody of him. Although I'm much better than his mom, I'm still emotionally deficient. When he gets upset (which is rare) and starts crying....I feel awkward and am like
by ⒶndyⒶnarchy; ; Report