My father has always been a distant shadow in my past; a bruise on my skin that will never heal. I am told we met when I was two, a coincidence, we were at the same McDonald's. I can only imagine how awkward the scene must have been, like a funeral for a small pet, something done only for a child's benefit. I of course, have no real recollection of this moment, I wish I did.
He has always been a distant figure in my life. Someone I didn't understand. I would see him every two years or so, he would stop in around November or December, as my birthday and Christmas fall in those months. He would stay for an unbearable hour, give me a sterile gift, and leave. I hated those visits. I feared their awkward nature, the show, and the display of how I'd grown. I cannot express how afraid of him I was, how much I hated his artificial affection. It would take almost fourteen years for him to make enough of an effort to try and get to know me.
How is a girl supposed to handle this kind of isolation, no five-year-old should ever have to feel unworthy of their father's love. It's a scar I will always have, something so ingrained in who I am I fear it will always harm me, and it has. When I was thirteen it dawned on me that I had another family. How strange it was to wake one morning and think that I had grandparents I had never met; that I had cousins, and aunts, and uncles. I remember watering the plants one afternoon with my mother, and working up the courage to ask her if my father had any living relative. She only answered that she thought he had a sister somewhere. How can I express the shock I felt, the betrayal.
I have met these relatives, over the years since, and they feel like strangers. I fear visiting them as much as I fear seeing my father. They are good people but they are not my family, and that hurts just as much as the abandonment. I am told I favor my father's mother although, I have never met her and have only seen a few photos. Nevertheless, this is what was told to me. I often imagine what it would be like if we ever met, which could never happen as she died about six months before I was born. I imagine a face like mine, old with age, and a kind smile and warm arms.
Male figures in my life have always been lacking, with the exception of my grandfather, there has never been stability. My step-father is another bruise on my skin and his is just as heart wrenching. He married my mother when I was very young, and for a time I actually called him 'daddy', this was before I realized how untrue it was. But he was there for me and I received a stable and protective love. He is the father of my little sister and he treated us equally. It was only when my age reached the decade mark that things began to change. He became violent, and angered. He was someone, who overnight, we came to fear and hate. I was the one who received most of the retribution. I was the easiest target, the eldest daughter of another man, a rebellious child who all to often stood up and spoke her mind. I will not go as far to say the his abuse was ever physical but there were episodes. We later found that he was mentally unstable, due to a chemical imbalance I still cannot understand. It is only through daily, rigorous, medication that our relationship has improved at all.
I want so much to be accepted, to be loved by these men, and I hate that I want that. I was once told by my step-mother that I would probably never be able to have a stable relationship with a man until I reconciled with my father. I have proved her wrong. But this was also the woman who said she could see me having an affair with an older professor type. These things were told cruelly to my face, and it hurt to think this was how others viewed me.
I cannot deny that I shield my emotions. But there has been a silver lining to my heartache. I can only hope that his love will allow me to embody the girl I know I can be. I hope that it is true enough to hold on to me when I let these immobilizing fears wash over me. I think it is.
If my life experience has taught me anything, it is to rely only on myself. It is incredibly painful to give that up, but I know I will never be happy until I take that jump. I mustn't be afraid of the fall. Because even though it is dark, I feel his warm hand in mine and this I think will always put a smile on my face.
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