I have been reluctant to write about this issue, as it’s painful for me. My father who passed away last year had two daughters, two little girls, who are now women, he was a great dad to them and it shows. They, along with the rest of my dad’s family, have been grieving for him ever since his passing, I, however, have been grieving for much longer. My mum and dad split up when I was young and as a result I didn’t see my dad, over the years I met my aunts, cousins and grandmother, who god bless her soul I’m so glad I got to meet. I did for a brief time get to meet my father, my impression was of a big, dark, shy man who didn’t know what to say to me, I was a shy kid myself and he had a new family, a new wife, two daughters who I were always told were not ‘really’ his, that they had their own fathers, and my dad had given up on his only daughter. My mum was hurting and she couldn’t forgive him for walking away from her, and from me. My dad was however raising his two daughters, and that’s kinda beautiful to me.
Of course I didn’t always feel like this, every fathers day I was the kid with no dad, I made cards for the teacher instead, my mum would cry that I didn’t have a dad, but it’s pretty true that you can’t miss something you never had. I have no idea what it’s like to have a dad, I imagine a dad is someone big, who makes you feel safe, who tells your early boyfriends to treat you right, and gives you hugs after your mum has fallen out with you, this could just be my rose tinted glasses I wear.
But I did grieve the idea of a father, I think I was 7.
When my father did get in touch through his eldest daughter to tell me he was dying, I felt the strongest, most primal pull to him, I needed to spend time with him, to talk to him, be around him and spend whatever time he had left getting to know him. I remember the way he smelt, his big, kind smile and his hands; he once held me as a baby in them hands, and now here he was dying in front of me, I held his hand and I wish I had told him that I forgave him, but I don’t think I truly did until after he had gone. It was amazing to have this brief relationship with my father, I didn’t feel the same sadness as everyone else, and for me this contact was proof that he always thought of me, that he felt something, that now he didn’t have long left it was worth the risk to be in contact with me. We were actually very similar, in ways I couldn’t even imagine, the physical similarities were evident, I even inherited his appetite! He was beautiful, funny, loving and just, well, special, to me anyway. Of course, a few months later he died, I was devastated, I’m not even sure why, his funeral was maybe the worst part of it all, half of his family didn’t know who I was, which sent me back to feeling forgotten and insignificant. I felt on the outside and the truth is I was, he was my biological father, not my dad, and I’m dealing with that. Dealing with my jealousy of his daughters, what’s left of it, and dealing with the uncomfortable emotions of not knowing how to feel about my dad now. Today is fathers day in the UK and I know his daughters are in pain today, they have endured a lot since his diagnosis, up to his death and I can’t even imagine the grief they must be feeling, but a part of me wishes I did.
To dad, I will never understand your logic to not stay in touch with me, but I’m so glad I was there at the end x
serendipitydawns 