It's the fall of 2021, I'm sitting waiting for my fathers cousin. I made a tik tok on the family of half truths that I have been told throughput my life. My fathers side was pissed. I didn't care. I was angry.
I see his cousin pull up. She hands me a coffee and we start talking. I didn't feel a connection. I know it's because she was so close to my father. She would say she didn't condone what he did to me but loved him. She didn't want to hear what he was, which was a piece of shit dead beat. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to hear someone talking shit about my loved one regardless of who was hurt, but this family is a bunch of contradicting hypocrites, not her just in general. They talked shit about my mother every chance they got and had the nerve to get pissed when I talked shit about my father.
Anyways, we talked for a few hours. She told me a few stories about my father. Thats all I have to get to know him. Stories from other people. It gets tiring hearing what a great guy he was. Deadbeats are not great people. "You can be good person and still do shitty things" yeah well you can put a whole bag of glitter on a piece of shit but that doesnt make it a diamond. Just saying. My fathers cousin understood but it sucked because it was about her best friend. She knew he wasn't a good father. She knew he failed.
Thats all I wanted was for someone to just listen. My siblings acted like a broken record but this was years of untreated truama and I didn't know how to work through it and I thought talking about it would help me and instead of taking it to th internet I tried talking to a few of them. It was a mistake it always made it worse.
The jist of the man who was my father as, hed give the shirt off his back for anyone who wasnt his kid. He was a kind man who would go to the end of the earth for someone, again who wasn't his kid. He was reliable but could't prioritize his children. He put woman over his children. He was raising kids that were not his. He was a dead beat and always will be. No one will ever change my mind.
We can agree to disagree all day. We can blame me for things that happened as a child but his love was conditional. He had the three strike rule but didn't believe in getting me the help I desperatly needed. He thought I could just accept the man who raised me no longer wanted me. He thought I would just see him as my dad. I couldn't. All the good never outweighed the bad. You get told to remember all the good he did but I can only count on one hand the good I experienced. My siblings have stories for days. Thats how I was learning about who he was. All I have is stories of others memories.
I take a deep breath and try to groud myself. I hear my children running through the house. I smell the scent of fresh cut grass and downy dryer sheets. My neighbor is doing laundry I assume. I see the blue car pass my house singing to Drake. I have a bad taste in my mouth from the ciggarette I just put out. I feel the wind hit my face. I am grounded.
Heading in my house I look back at his ashes and I feel pain. Not for me but for those who actually loved him. Maybe things would've been different if I looked like my siblings. Maybe he would've wanted me. Maybe but too late now, I thought before shutting the door leaving him behind.
How does one just "get over" the pain? How do you "move on" without closure? I ask myself while I pour my cup of coffee. Stirring the creamer in I let out a small sob. The tears just kept falling faster than I could wipe away. I try my best to not let my children see me. As I head to the bathroom I smell a scent that reminded me of my father. He wore a brand specifically when he'd wear his fancy shirts. He once had a collection of these shirts. I hated them. I hated the smell.
"Listen "dad" please just go, I don't need to know you're here.", I say under my breath, as I'm closing the bathroom door. "You need to go see your kids you claimed. Not the "whore", as you called me. You wanted nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with you. You can't give me the closure I need. My siblings made the DNA possible. You put that on all of us. You can't be forgiven for what you did. I never asked to be born. I didn't ask for you to abandon me. I asked you to protect me and you pulled out of that drive way and left me." I cried in a towel. The smell left and I wanted to drink.
I wanted an excuse to drink the hurt and pain away. I know I am loved unconditionally from my chosen parents but I was blinded by the pain I was feeling. I wanted the hole in my heart to close. I wanted the pain to end.How can someone so loved be this vile? He was a terrible father but everyone adored him. I didnt understand until I thought of my biological mother. What they felt towards him is what I felt for her. It was very toxic on both sides to put it lightly.
I defended her and they defended him. It was always a never ending battle. Especially when it came to my mother recieving his medical bills. They all laughed about it until it was brought up if it wasnt a real divorce shed recieve his SSI. They hated that thought of her recieving anythng of worth that pertained to him but loved the thought she would have to pay for his death. She didn't kill him. He did that on his own. Everyone who enabled his drinking killed him too. No one put a gun to his head and forced him but those who contributed to his habit are just as guilty.
Regardless of the reasoning there wasnt a good one to enable his drinking. I know writing this will cause issues but this is MY truth. This the way I feel. Wanna know who my father was I would tell you he was just a sperm donor who used me as a bargaining chip to get a divorce from my mother. The proof was there. I know the month of my first father recieving I had to be returned within that month was no coincidence. I know my father asked my mother for a divorce so he could marry his at the time girlfriend. Every girl hes ever been with was a promise to marriage. Only one made it to the marrying part. That was three years before his death.
Thats who he was. He will never be my father. He will forever just be a sperm donor. I can't forgive him. He doesn't deserve it. All I am thankful for is that he taught me what not to be. He can shove the "love me for who I am and not for what I do" up his ass.