Who's Your Granddaddy?

Another good question, or a better one, that I have for my daughter is Where's Your Granddaddy? You know, I've felt a certain kind of way about my dad not being in my life. I've felt hurt, sad, ignored, invalid, unworthy, abandoned, undeserving, ugly, deceived, not good enough, and a whole slew of other feelings, at the absence of my father. It's been a very sad journey with my dad, or without him, but one that I've been able to deal with--one that I've learned to handle and not take personally. I forgave my father a long time ago. I don't know how I did it. However, I think I did it when it became too much for me to not forgive him--when holding onto so much animosity could have cost me everything and, possibly, ruined me. So, I believe that if there was anything I needed to do, it would have to be to forgive my dad. Holding onto the anger may have consumed me to the point of non-recovery, and because of that, I decided to let it go.

As time went on, I understood and accepted why my father hasn't been there for me. Over the years, he has told me parts of his story. My father was abused as a child and ran away from home when he was 14 years old. He never went back home to live. Can you imagine being on your own from 14 until forever? I cannot. I can't imagine what it took for him to survive this long. My dad will be 73 years old in December.

My father's been running ever since. He has helped to raise none of his children, and though it's not my responsibility to understand it all, I can't help but wonder what this has done to his soul. I understand some of my father's pain, for we share similar pain. We have both experienced abuse. So, I've learned to accept him on some levels--actually, on many levels. However, understanding my father's past and why he was unable to be there for his own children does not stop me from being saddened by his absence in this, his granddaughter's, life. It's as if history is repeating itself only this time, the excuses are not accepted--they are not resolved in my head and made okay. In fact, they're unacceptable. They're downright frustrating, sad and disheartening, to me. When I look at my daughter, I see this beautiful little baby girl. I'm happy about that. She's wonderful. But, when I look at her and see this beautiful little baby girl, whom her grandfather, who lives less than ten minutes away by the way, hasn't seen, I feel saddened to the point of fainting. It's disappointing. I feel overwhelming sadness as the tears well up even now. I don't want her to not know her grandfather. I don't want her to go through what I went through, and yet, even though she's unaware of it, she already has. That's hurtful to me--really hurtful because it makes my experiences with him more real. I don't know if the fact that she looks just like me makes it even worse, but I do know that the fact that my father is missing out on this lovely little girl is tragic. He's missing out, and he's causing her to miss out on him, and that's unfair. She should know her grandfather. That is her right, and he is not the least bit concerned about her. Okay, some may tell me not to say that he's not concerned. Well, if it wasn't true, then I have no proof. After all, actions speak louder than words. I feel overwhelmed with this fear of her being hurt like I was. I feel she deserves to be seen by her grandfather--she's beautiful enough--and even if she wasn't, then that would make her no less deserving.

I got it! I got two things, actually. One, I thought that my father wasn't around because I wasn't pretty enough. Well, Wynter has taught me that isn't the case at all. I can look at her and see that her beauty has not brought my father any closer to my doorstep than if we'd lived next door to him. And two, I realize that I'm saddened by what my father is missing out on. He's had ample opportunities with his children to make things "right". He has grandchildren and great-grandchildren--one of whom lives with him and is not being cared for by him--and for some reason, I'm expecting him to do right by this child. I guess it's because if he does right by her, then he does right by me. I'll feel validated. I'm looking for things to be made right through my daughter, and for some reason, I believe it is very possible. I won't allow my father to do an injustice to her. She doesn't deserve it, and neither did I.

I called my dad today, at the suggestion of my husband. It hadn't even occurred to me to call him, even with me knowing that he hadn't seen her since she was born two months ago. I called and let him know that I was saddened by his absence. He apologized for my sadness and promised me that he would visit next week. It's always next week, with my dad. He was supposed to come and see her "next week" a month and a half ago. He's been "next week"-ing me for as long as I can remember, and sometimes he has come through on his promise. I almost feel sorry for my dad--not having a car and all. My father is known for having Cadillacs and other expensive cars, and he made it sound so sad that he would have to have someone pick him up and bring him here, but I know my dad better than that. After he finished telling me his tale of why he hasn't been here, he informed me that he's going to Delaware--where many Marylanders go to gamble--this weekend. When I suggested that those same people who were coming to take him to DE could bring him over here, he began to laugh and say, "Yeah, well." Oh well is what I say. I can't force him to come. Still, there was a sense of sadness that my dad's life has become this.

I believe that my dad's anger and lack of forgiveness towards those who abused him as a child has hurt him deeper than the perpetrators. For many years, he's been wanting to write a book about his life. He recorded some of it on tape, already. I told him that I would write the book if gave me what he has on tape. I haven't gotten anything yet. However, towards the end of our conversation, today, my dad told me that he's going to find a recorder to finish taping the story of his life and that he had found the first tape on which he started telling about his life. (He just shared this information on his own. When we do talk about the book, I usually ask him but not this time.)

So, with all of my great despair, I feel a great sense of hope--almost tangible hope that my family's dynamics are changing at the hands of my father. I feel hope that my father finally completes his life story on another tape. Hope that he gives me his initial tape. Hope that he keeps his promise to see his granddaughter. Hope that "next week" is really next week because we all have to start somewhere. And, although tomorrow isn't promised, at the ripe old age of almost 73, I can't imagine my dad getting a better start. After all, 73 would also be the year I was born.

Love,
Yvette