~A Bitter Swallow~

  Father's Day is hard for me.   It is a day that comes once a year to remind me that my dad gave up on me.  He turned his back on me at the point in my life when I needed my father the most.  He chose his alcohol and his girlfriend instead of his own children.  He chose to embrace her children, her ideals, her future, instead of ours. 

  I have given up on any type of reconciliation with my dad.  I know it will never happen.  The last time I saw him, he sat- bouncing my three-year old son on his lap- and proceeded to tell my husband what a horrible, worthless child I was.  I never tried again.  He is obviously oblivious to his role in the way I was.  He takes absolutely no responsibility for the pain, anger, hurt and betrayal I felt from him.  For the way he would talk me down instead of trying to talk me up.  For pointing out my weaknesses instead of my strengths. For telling me I would wind up being nothing, instead of telling me I could be whatever I wanted.

He use to do all those things.   He use to be the greatest dad in the world.  I loved the crap out of him.  He did his best for us.  That all changed when he met his now-wife.   I had nothing against him having girlfriends.  I had nothing against this one being black.  I could care less.  I liked him having girlfriends.  I liked him having a life.  But this one.. from the moment she walked through the doors, it was like a whirl of ice followed her.  She looked down on all of us.  None of us were worthwhile.  She disagreed with my dad's parenting style, although we were all acing all of our classes, and had never once been in trouble with the law.  Her children, however, we all either dealing drugs, in jail, or teenage mothers.   But, her parenting style was much more effective and appropriate? 

No.. I didn't like her.  And she made it very clear that she hated me.  Was it because of how much I reminded my dad of my mom?  Was I "competition"?  I don't know.  I do know that one of her sons tried to pimp me out to his friends, to the point where they would come over- money in hand.  I was twelve.  Another constantly touched me inappropriately, and yet another tried to rape me more than once.  I was lucky enough to always have had someone show up to interrupt him before it actually happened.  Then he would laugh and tell them he was just kidding.  He wasn't kidding.   But, my dad didn't believe me.  He told me I was lying- making it up to cause problems.  Then he threw me out of the house.

I don't know what happened to him.  I don't know how, in one summer, she warped his head so completely.  She turned him into a completely different person, and he let her.  Well, I guess they are happy now.  They have their property out where ever, and he has her children, and grandchildren, to raise.   And I am left sitting here, wondering where my real dad went.  Where the guy I used to love more than the earth and skies and everything beyond went.  The guy who holds the little girl so tenderly... why did he let go?