Beloved - Chapter 21

So, when I’m faced with the realities of these relationships, I have more choices to make. The thing is, I was prepared to meet my dad that one moment back in December 2012 then walk away. That face to face was the only moment I ever expected to have.  I was absolutely prepared to walk away from that moment because his absentia in my life - his silence - his life-long disengagement - was clearly a decision he was dedicated to. Him, ostensibly opening the doors of his life to me, was a curveball I never saw coming. However, as time passes it seems as though those life-long decisions die hard.  

I am also convinced that the first dinner with Norma was her true self expressing what she believed about me, sight unseen. And despite her best efforts, she has never resolved this initial belief she had about me. She believed I was out to hurt her family - that I wanted something - that I was a threat to her or them in some way. And the fact that I have not asked for one single thing has not assuaged her suspicions.  Well, perhaps Norma is right in one respect - I do want something from my dad. Not the thing she thinks, however. I need him to mean what he says. I need him to follow through on his promises. I need him to step into my life. 

I definitly received more than I ever expected. But perhaps, I am also receiving exactly what I expected. My birth parents clearly always have, and continue to feel, ambivalent about me. They didn’t know what to do with my existence at a time when they were young and life was chaotic and scary. And now - all these years later - they are still unsure what to do with me. How to engage with me. There was a time in my life when I would have been heartbroken over this. There have been many times I didn’t understand what was so wrong about me that neither of my parents could love me or want me. I have lived with that confusion and rejection all my life. But I am not in that place in my life any longer. Make no mistake about it - this hurts me - but I no longer blame myself for their actions. Their choices have nothing to do with me.  

Not. 

One. 

Thing.  

I know that every normal parent/child relationship ebbs and flows. Every child becomes disenchanted or disappointed with a parent at some point. And every parent feels the tension between the hopes they have for that child and the person this child becomes. Knowing this, I enquired with friends who had a lifelong relationship with their fathers to try and glean some sense of what a normal father/daughter relationship looks like when it hits a rough patch. The factors that were consistent in everyone’s consideration of their father/daughter relationships were age, gender, and spousal influence. In other words - dads (men), at this age, just don’t get it.  Throw in the opinion of a wife (mother, step-mother), especially one that isn’t necessarily a fan of yours, and you have an even steeper hill to climb. That email that began with “we” made me feel as though I was being ganged up on.  It made me feel as though a relationship with my dad could never be “you and I”.  It would always be “they and me”. Yes, that “we” included Norma, my half-sisters, and my niece. They are the family unit. They will always rally around the other. And at one time I thought that meant they would rally around me too but the events of the past year have clearly shown me that when push comes to shove, I am but an addendum. My friends have found themselves trying to reconcile issues and disappointments with their own fathers over the course of their lifetime, but there is a distinct different between them and me. There is, in most cases, a foundation of trust, care, love, and relative safety that their relationship is built on. I, on the other hand, have no such foundation.  

It comes down to what he’s willing to give and what I’m willing to accept. I can’t help but wonder how important this relationship is to him. I know he would say it’s very important. I know he would say he loves me lots. He signs his emails this way. I know he would be offended if I suggested otherwise. But frankly, I have my doubts. The thing is - for a really long time - I didn’t want to have my doubts. I excused him from all past transgressions the first time I met him. He told me at the first dinner together that I had a lot to forgive. And I forgave him. All of it. Simple as that. I was so excited that I might have a chance at this relationship with a father, that I happily wiped the slate clean so we could go forward with no baggage. And I never hesitated to give him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t call, or started to be too busy to write emails at the same frequency as he had in the past. I accepted his excuses and made up more of my own when he didn’t come to visit.  I took everything he said at face value, never believing that he didn’t mean them. And when things started to tilt in our relationship I made excuses for that too. But - there comes a point when you need to face what’s in front of you. A time when you need to tell the truth about what you see. And the first person you need to tell the truth to is yourself.  Here’s what I saw as I surveyed the entire history of me and my dad:  

1. Silence is his go-to method of disengagement. Silence is a death knell to me.
   
   
2. He said he was not a brave or confident person. I understood his fear when he was an 18 year old young man. I don’t understand it now.
   
   
3. Despite repeated invitations to enter my life when I was a child, and a young woman, he declined them all. Despite repeated invitations to enter my life now, he has continued to decline them. 
   
   
4. You know those birthdays and graduation that went unacknowledged by him?  Even Carolyn had the courage and courtesy to send me birthday cards and a bouquet of flowers on my graduation. 
   
   
5. If it had not been for my own courage to seek him out, we would never have met. Ever. Not if it was left up to him.  

I realized my dad continues to be the same person he was all those years ago. I’m not sure why I thought anything would be different. I guess because he indicated they would be. I guess because Norma had told me he was a hero to his girls - and it seemed, at first, hat I was now one of them. I guess because I really wanted what was said to be true and had no reason to think otherwise. And although I did and have forgiven him for his utter abandonment of me all those years ago, it’s not forgotten. Particularly when I’m now faced with the exact same behaviour.  I now find myself asking what I’m willing to accept. Am I willing to ignore it? Am I willing to speak out?  Do I feel safe telling him what’s wrong? Will anything I say really matter? Change things? Am I willing to accept any more excuses from him?  Am I willing to accept the status quo?  Am I willing to give voice to my hurt and disappointment? Am I willing to trust him with my heart? And what credibility do I give what he says?  Especially since his actions, or lack thereof, seem to tell the real story. Am I willing to accept my dad with all his flaws and failings? And if so, what does that look like? 

Yeah – lots of questions I’m facing. A lot of unknowns. Ironically I find myself transported back to that time when I was planning how I would meet him. That time when Sheri, my counsellor - put in place to mop up the aftermath of what we all felt would be a terribly painful meeting - asked if I was prepared for his reaction and for his subsequent reaction.  I, at the time, said yes - I was prepared for it. We were all surprised and delighted by his initial reaction. However, I never thought the subsequent reaction would have taken five years to bubble to the surface.

Do I think my dad is trying to hurt me? No. Do I think he is aware the impact his actions have on me?  No. In fact, I believe he thinks the problem is with me. Do I think he will accept that he’s hurt and disappointed me? No. I think he’ll be angry that I would suggest such a thing. And I think Norma will back him up on that. Because, that is one thing he’s never had to do, is face the cause and effect of his actions. Do I want to hurt him? No. Do I want him to understand? Yes. Am I willing to walk away from a relationship that hurts? Yes. Will I be OK if my dad exited my life tomorrow? Well - let's just call it out - he never did enter my life. You can't leave something you were never truly a part of. And yes - I will absolutely be OK.

There are a lot of questions that swirl about in my brain these days. So much that is unresolved. Even when I think I have landed on a course of action, another cadre of questions come spilling out. And until I can ask all those questions of myself - and hopefully answer a few of them -I remain camped out on the side of the road. Actually - no! I’m not camped out there anymore. I’ve picked myself up once again and decided that the road I’m choosing has room for him. But he needs to join me. I am headed onward.

In the midst of all this dissonance and uncertainty in my brain, I have looked at God and wondered “Do you also have your limitations with me?” “Are you unprepared to go the distance with me?” And He just smiles at me and says “I’m not him. I’ve always been your Father. Always been your Dad.” And I’m reminded that He has always chosen to enter my life. Walked every gruelling step. This excerpt from Henri Nouwen’s “Bread for the Journey” connected with me in a special way.  

“There is a voice that says, ‘Prove that you’re a good person.’ Another voice says, ‘You’d better be ashamed of yourself.’  There is also a voice that says, ‘Nobody really cares about you.’ and one that says, ‘Be sure to become successful, popular, and powerful.’ But underneath all these often very noisy voices is a still, small voice that says,

‘You are my Beloved, my favour rests on you.’ 

That’s the voice we need most of all to hear…it requires solitude, silence and a strong determination to listen. That’s what prayer is. It is listening to the voice that calls us ‘my Beloved.’”

Yeah - all those voices. I think we’ve established that the chorus of voices have had a cacophonous influence on my life. However, the process of finding my dad, and in tandem with that, discovering God as my Father, I can tell you that even as I sit with the myriad of questions, I am able to stop and listen and hear Him tell me, “You are My Beloved”. It’s in that knowledge - that safety - that I know, whatever direction I decide to turn at this point in my journey, He will continue to walk with me. Keeping stride with me while simultaneously having my back and going before me.  

A friend of mine, after hearing about the trip my dad made to the Island, and how he treated me, said “This is all on him. This has nothing to do with you. You know that right?”  A year ago I would have said no. You don’t go through your life and suffer the repeated abandonment and rejection of key relationships without wondering what is so wrong  with you. You, after all, are the common denominator in every rejection. The people with the familial titles are the ones you are supposed to be able to count on. The ones you are supposed to feel loved and wanted and cherished and safe with. The ones who, no matter what, will never leave your side. But for me, it’s been those exact people who have chosen to step away, walk away, move on, close doors, and burn bridges. A mother and father should not abandon a child. My dad has not recognized or celebrated a single moment of my life. However, I am now in a place where I absolutely know this is about those people in my life who, for reasons unknown to them or me, simply can’t bring themselves to enter into a relationship with me. It is a fault in them, not a defect in me. In part, I know this, because I see the people around me who have no reason to be a part of my life but who are choosing to do so nonetheless. It was while visiting Lawrence in the hospital that this truth became crystal clear. He was inquiring into how each of my kids were doing then asked about my dad. Without telling him any of the details, I simply told him that things weren’t that great at the moment. I hadn’t heard a lot from my dad this year I said. There are so many things Lawrence could have said at that moment - including offering a string of excuses for my dad’s behaviour. Instead, his demeanour changed and he spoke directly to the hurt with a soft encouragement. A reminder that when we don’t know why, God knows. He shared a painful story of his own and the scripture that had helped him through it all. And it was in that moment that I was reminded who my people were. The people - the family - that God had gifted me with. None of them are blood. All of them voluntary. I never had a family, but I had a community. And that community nailed it.

The End.         

For Now.

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