daddy dearest. not.

during one of our 7868905674 trips to paper source this weekend, i found this adorable book to document the bean's babyhood: it's got pages like "how mom and dad met", "how we picked your name", spots for shower invitations and birth announcements, fun stuff like that. i'm trying to figure out how to accomplish the foot and handprints without making a major mess. heh.

anyway, looking through the book reminded me of my own baby book, which i used to love perusing when i was just a wee wan. sadly, it's lost forever - left behind when my mom and i moved out of the house that we lived in with my dad. and these thoughts brought me back to a time when i still had a dad.

my buddies monkey, nanette, and tater have all posted lovely entries about their own dads recently. two have sadly lost theirs, and one is building a stronger, more loving relationship with her father. and me? i don't even know where my dad is.

watching the hub with the bean and the kid, i'm reminded of how my dad used to love me. for the first twelve years of my life, he was there every day, to hug me and make jokes and cook wonderful meals and even discipline and punish me when i did wrong - which happened pretty regularly. hey, i was a kid. but i loved my dad so much and thought he was the greatest - so much so that i'd convinced myself that i was going to live with him when he and my mom decided to separate. i never thought i'd be one of those "divorced kids", but life happens, and after going through it myself, i can totally understand how that can come to be.

but then i saw the hurt in my mom's eyes, and i knew there was no way i could let her move out alone. so i dutifully packed my stuff and went with my mom to our new life.

and in those early weeks and months of the separation, i saw my dad pretty regularly - like every weekend, and even during the week whenever we could squeeze it in. i'd even take the bus for the 20-mile trip after school so i could be there when he got home from work, so we could have dinner together, and then he'd take me back home. we'd go shopping - he was a MAJOR shopaholic, so now you know where i get that from - and we'd walk the mall arm-in-arm. but not in a freaky, creepy way. not like this girl i saw at mimi's cafe a couple of weeks ago, who sat in her dad's lap and was very touchy-feely. FIL and i watched in bemusement (and slight disgust), as he would hold her close and she would stroke his cheek. there's loving your dad, and then there's loving your dad. it was gross and just looked wrong. but i digress.

dad still had close family in the homeland, so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to take off and visit them for a couple of weeks at a time. i missed him, but he always brought back all sorts of great hello kitty stuff and snacks for me. and you know i love me some snacks. hee!

then when he returned home from one of those visits, he was...different. happier. excited about life. and it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened - he met someone. a very young and pretty someone. someone who was quite excited about the prospect of coming to the states to see what kind of life she could have. *cough*golddigger!*cough*

and it wasn't long before he was headed back again - this time to marry this girl and bring her home. he was 42, she was 24 - they thought that was just. so. cute. [retching] even at 12, i thought this was gross. but i tried to keep an open mind, and looked forward to the day i could finally meet the woman who had captured my dad's heart and put that twinkle in his eye.

and at first, she was cool. hell, she wasn't much older than i was! we'd giggle over tv shows and sneak all sorts of stuff into the shopping carts when my dad wasn't looking and even hold hands while we strolled the mall. i thought she was fun and pretty, and didn't even notice when the visits became fewer and farther between. and when they had the baby, i fell in love. i couldn't wait to come over to play with her and help take care of her. she was gorgeous and cuddly and as fun as a little doll.

it was actually because of that desire to see the baby all the time that made me realize that all of a sudden, i was the only one making the effort to spend time with them. i wasn't getting any more phone calls, didn't get picked up anymore, and the visits were always initiated by me. and a few times, they said they were coming to pick me up, and never came. i was sure they'd forgotten all about me. i even tested it - i stopped calling and waited to see how long it would take for them to realize that they hadn't so much as talked to me.

i waited so long that i got tired of waiting. i gave in and called. i missed my dad and i wanted to see my sister, dammit.

but then another month went by with no contact, and i got frustrated. no one was answering the phone, and so i put pen to paper and wrote them a letter that told them how i felt. i talked about how i felt left behind, that i missed them, and how i couldn't understand why they didn't call me anymore. i explained that my feelings were hurt that they never made an effort to see me anymore, and that i felt like i'd been replaced by the baby. i read and re-read that letter, had my mom take a look at it to make sure i wasn't out of line or disrespectful, dropped it in the mail and hoped for the best.

two days later, i finally got a phone call. but it wasn't my dad. it was HER. and she was PISSED. she told me in no uncertain terms that my letter was stupid, that they'd never forgotten to pick me up, that the baby came first now, and that they didn't want to see me anymore. i hung up the phone and cried and cried and cried, and from that very day, part of my heart was cold, hard, and broken in a way that couldn't be fixed or healed.

when i was 17, i gave it another shot. my boyfriend (who later became the ex/the kid's dad) took me to where my dad still worked with two of my uncles, and we waited for him to come out. and when he did, it was awkward and weird, but i couldn't help but note how good it was to see him again. not a word was said about the letter or the bitch who banished me from their lives, but he told me that i had a brother. um, and he took the opportunity to talk shit about my mom for "allowing" me to have a boyfriend. yeah, because his ass was around to be a parent, right? sheeeeeit.

and did he make any more efforts after that? nope. in fact, when i was 21 and sent him an invitation to our wedding, the RSVP came back with a big, fat "no". oh, but there was $100 thrown in the envelope. because that makes it better. "here's some cash, have a nice life" is how i read that. and my heart broke all over again. i wasn't going to have him walk me down the aisle anyway - that was reserved for my mom, who was there for me all along - and family members kept assuring me that "he'll be there, just watch - he'll be in the back of the church, watching." nope.

i made one final attempt to bring him back into my life - when i was pregnant with the kid. i thought for sure that he'd want to be part of his grandchild's life, at least. and when i talked to him and invited him to come to our home, he sounded excited and said that he had a "surprise" for me. well, okay. i like surprises. usually.

when the day of the visit came, i was absolutely TERRIFIED. i was about to face that horrible woman again, but this time i was older, stronger, wiser, and determined not to let her get to me. i was going to be polite, even gracious, and show that bitch that she couldn't hurt me anymore. the doorbell rang, and i pushed the visions of me putting that whore in a headlock out of my head and answered the door.

and there stood my dad, my sister (oh, but she'd grown up so much!), and my brother. no sign of the trollop anywhere. after awkward hugs and greetings, dad said "are you ready for your surprise?" 

oh, shit. 

he left and came back with a completely different woman whom i'd never seen before AND another little girl - a 3-year-old sister. apparently, he'd finally split from that tramp and remarried, and this woman was his very first girlfriend (even before he'd met my mom), but this little girl was still a product of his unholy union with that snatch. i found it amusing that while he was going through what sounded like an ugly divorce, he and the golddigger had still managed to conceive yet ANOTHER child. [eyeroll] sur-fucking-prise, indeed. "hey, you have another sibling, surprise! yay!" rainbows and fucking lollipops all around! whoopee!  how very fucking magical!

the new wife was nice enough, and the visit turned out to be a fun one after the initial awkwardness. and we had another handful of visits after that one - the kid was born, they visited us, we visited them, and then...nothing. the last time i saw my dad was just before the kid turned a year old. and he got laid off from work, so i have no idea where he is anymore. last i heard, he'd moved back to the homeland. nice. leave the country for good and not even tell your kid.

i googled him once (the magic of the internets!) and found a picture from five years ago at some retirement party. he looked the same, just older - although what did i expect, tattoos and a nose piercing? anyway, that's all i've seen of him in ages.

so much time has gone by and i've tried to convince myself that it doesn't matter anymore. i tried and tried and tried to hold on to a relationship with this man, and he simply didn't care enough to put in even a half-assed effort. i have plenty of family who loves me, i've got a wonderful husband and two fabulous children, awesome friends, and a life that i'm extremely proud of and grateful for. i don't need him. right?

damn you, bio-dad, for treating me like shit and leaving me behind once you'd built a new family that you could have a fresh start with. shame on you for taking your love away from your firstborn child and not realizing that it is possible to share it with your new children AND your old one. i'm half your age and i'm far wiser about this shit than you obviously are.  i mean, how the hell can you be someone's PARENT and just forget all about them?  i don't understand that.  not even a little.  even those who aren't parents would have trouble with that, i'm thinking.

and damn me for still caring and hurting and crying over you. and for still being that sad and lonely 12-year-old who has a dad, but doesn't. not so much.