Its been a long time since I’ve blogged. I decided to this morning because there is a lot on my mind. Gather round everyone whilst I tell you a story...(lol)
Recently I made contact with my father. It’s been twenty three years since we have seen each other or had any contact whatsoever. I know this is God’s doing. It’s not “coincidence” that I gave a ride home to a coworker who “just happens” to know my father who lives several hours away in a different state. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not “random” at all, it’s divine.
So at any rate, it’s been a lot to process talking to dad. It’s been very emotional. I’ve learned things that have me feeling hurt and a bit angry. For instance, I never knew my brother and father used to talk.
As far as I knew, nobody had any contact with dad all of these years. But in actuality dad found my brother some twelve years ago and reached out. They talked online through email and MySpace. I never knew about this. My brother never said a word.
I always thought that dad had forgotten us. I thought that after mom left with us...he was just perfectly fine with never seeing or knowing us again.
That’s because no one ever told me any different.
When I sent the first email to my dad I wasn’t expecting much. Actually I’m not really sure what I expected. I just know that I was very nervous about reaching out but I also wanted answers. I knew I’d wonder “what if” if I didn’t reach out. So I sent a very short email saying “you don’t know me, but I’m your daughter.”
My heart about fell out of my chest when he responded enthusiastically saying that he had been trying to find me for a long, long time and that he wanted a relationship with me on whatever level I felt comfortable with.
I later asked why we never heard from him and he told me that he would call to speak to us but was always basically told no or that we didn’t want to talk to him. But you know something about that?
I was never asked if I wanted to talk to dad.
My family kept him from my brother and me out of their own anger.
I can’t begin to say how much that hurts.
I grew up thinking one parent didn’t want me while the other told me “I hate you”.
All out of anger. I don’t even know why they were angry at him. I haven’t gotten to that question. I haven’t asked him too much because I’d rather talk pleasantly and not have either of us overwhelmed or make things uncomfortable.
Apparently my brother got angry at dad when they talked all those years ago. And eventually they drifted apart.
I know it’s a bit vengeful of me, but I haven’t told my brother that I’m talking to our father. I don’t know why he kept it to himself so long ago but I’m upset about it. I can’t say if back then I would have been as open to talking to him as I am now with two children of my own, but I would have liked the choice! It would have been nice!
So it’s my little secret now.
That’s awful. I know. But I’m still processing at this point and there’s more I’d like to ask dad about before I discuss it with anyone else in the family. I never got his side. I never really got anyone’s side. All I knew was what I could remember. Which isn’t much. Mom and dad got into a fight on my birthday, she took us and left. And for 23 years we heard and saw nothing of our father.
That’s what I thought anyway.
Ok-every time I say “our father” my brain automatically completes it with “who art in Heaven”. Lol.
Anyway...it’s turns out that my dad gave his life to Christ 21 years ago! So that’s pretty awesome. He is pleasant to talk to and seems nice. The dad I’m getting to know and the dad I remember are two competing images. And in my head he is still thirty something years old. Well, that’s slowly changing. (I almost didn’t recognize his picture! 23 years is a long time!)
I’d imagine that in his head I’m still a little girl though of course logically he knows I’m an adult. I send him pictures of my kids so I’m sure too that he’s processing learning that he is a grandpa.
I don’t look forward to telling my mother about all this.
She may want nothing more to do with me. At least for a time.
I know she will take it personally that I’m talking to dad. Like I’m sh-ing all over her. That’s what I hear her saying. Because she raised me. So wanting to talk to him would just be me being spiteful to her. I’m pretty sure this is what she’s going to think. I can hear it “spiteful, ungrateful b*h.” Is what she’d say.
Honestly I can’t help but compare my parents a bit. I guess that’s probably natural in a situation like this. Raised by one, not knowing the other. A part of me does wonder what life would have been like if my father had been in it.
But he had to go through what he went through to come to the cross and so did I. And nothing is worth changing if it changes that.
There’s really only “now” and Now God has given my father and I an opportunity to know each other. And I’m really glad for it. Talking to dad is like finding a piece of me that I didn’t know was missing. I hope to get to meet him someday.
I have faith. Despite that we are states apart. I’m states apart from my boyfriend too. He’s In Ok, I’m in Va, and dad is in Ct, but I believe I will see them both. And it’ll be nothing but God when it happens.
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