Sunday, April 8, 2012


"Family quarrels are bitter things."
Reading: "Keeping Faith" by Jodi Picoult
Watching: DiNozzo DikKnows Best Marathon of NCIS
Listening: "Family Tree" by Matthew West

No, this is not your legacy
This is not your destiny
Yesterday does not define you
No, this is not your legacy
This is not your meant to be
I can break the chains that bind you

Cause you're my child
You're my chosen
You are loved
You are loved
And I will restore
All that was broken
You are loved
You are loved

And just like the seasons change
Winter into spring
You're bringing new life to your family tree now
Yes you are
You are

"They don't go by any rules."
My father called me today. Under normal circumstances this would be uneventful. But my family is anything but ordinary. Oh my family...
I realized today that I don't talk about them very often, mostly because I don't have the best relationship with them. But today, for some reason today, I am ready to talk about them.
"They're not like aches or wounds;"
So, where do I begin? Or should I say, so where do I begin? I have few memories of my father. At three years old my father sent his wife and three kids packing, so he could be with the new woman he loved. And those two thousand plus miles have stayed there ever since. I have seen my father three times since that day. The first I was too naive, the second I was literally forced (law enforced), and the third I was already an adult simply wishing someone had been wiser. So days like today, when my father calls me and leaves me simple messages, reminding me who he is and wishing me a "Happy Easter",  it might as well be two billion miles. A father should not be a stranger. But again two thousand times twenty adds up.
     I wonder if he ever thinks about me any other days but the holidays. I wonder if he has a clue when my birthday is. I wonder if he ever wishes that he hadn't traded in his wife and kids for other women; ruining so many other lives in the process. Four wives later, he still hasn't found happiness in any of them.
     I look like my mother, but I hate looking in the mirror today knowing I have his brown eyes, his big nose. I hate the fact that I have to work so hard to keep in shape because of him. I hate not knowing this whole other family. I hate feeling like because of him the whole state of California is off limits. I hate thinking that because of me, because I was just a baby my whole family paid for it.
     But truthfully, most days I don't think about him at all. I wasn't one of those kids who wished for mommy and daddy to get back together. I only think about him when someone brings him up or he tries to push himself on me, tries to be a daddy to his adult daughter. Our lives went two separate directions. And for the most part I am grateful. Because without him I got Him!!! I got a heavenly Father so much better than mine would have ever been. I got childhood friends and a lifetime of memories. I got a God daughter, and a bridesmaids dress, raspberries and laughter, encouraging phone calls, sounding walls. I got weekends, breaks, and summers. Hide outs and secret groups. I got a lifetime of memories that fills the walls that should have been his.  He missed out.
"they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material." ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

No comments:

Post a Comment