I don’t have any pictures of me and my dad when I was little or old. I’m sure there’s some around, but I don’t have any. Sometimes I wonder how much that lack of photographic documentation plays a role in my memories of my dad when I was a little girl. Or how much the photographs of me and my mom influence my feelings towards her and her role in my life when I was a young girl. Or how much did my unstable teenage years give me my childhood narrative that I live by today? My dad was an absent parent indeed, he left my mom, me, and my brother to fend for ourselves. That’s not totally accurate because my mom did kick him out! But that was no reason for my dad to abandon us too. When my dad left yesterday I was overcome by emotions, I cried which was something I wasn’t expecting to do. I felt sad like I would never see him again. Growing up he never did anything to hurt me on purpose. His bad parenting was a product of his youth and the way his parents treated him. My mom and dad both had very rough childhoods with terrible emotional support. They had no idea how to be psychologically healthy people. They both had shortcomings as parents in their own ways. I’ve paid for that in my life and I’m lucky I’m a strong person or I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. It was extremely damaging to me going through what my dad put me through as a little girl. I had no self-esteem and things just got worse and worse. But I don’t feel mad at him. I feel happy I saw him and wish we could spend more time together. So much time has passed and I made it through, I’m doing fine now. I don’t hold a grudge and I understand how difficult it must have been for both my parents. I have to believe deep down my dad had my best interest at heart and cared about me and Danny, he just got lost at sea.
Category: dads visit
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There’s two rules for the fake stream at the discovery museum, one, no climbing in the stream and two, have fun. I am in the process of getting Fiona’s shoes on and a few ladies are calling for my attention. Jack’s in the stream stomping his feet, I go over and take him out. He climbs right back in. My words “No, you can’t climb in the stream” mean absolutely nothing, it’s like I’m not talking at all. He gets pretty wet, but he’s not fazed. We go play in the outdoor tot area and I’ve never seen Jack have such a good time. He runs around climbing on the rope ladder, climbs up and down the soft steps, and plays in the tunnel. This is the highlight of the day because there’s a big dirty puddle inside! He’s so excited and so wet and dirty! Lucky I have a whole new outfit for him! My Dad and Betty are with us and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My dad helps watch the babies, he follows them, holds their hand when I tell him to. He’s gentle and surprisingly present. He’s very quiet and reserved. He’s still a free loader, but he’s definitely on his best behavior. Betty keeps him on his toes with her regular prodding. It feels strange to call him grandpa. But for the second time since my mom died I felt like a daughter, the first time was with Bruce when he came to visit. There’s something about that, I can’t quiet explain it yet, but it’s a place of comfort. Even though I have no relationship with my Dad. I’m sure he’ll ask us for something in the near future, like money, and he doesn’t get a free pass for treating Danny and I the way he did. But the visits not as dreadful as I imagined it would be.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 