Family Forum / Marriage / Divorce / June 2005

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I miss everybody.     It all sucks...

sigh... ya got me almost crying..

As i've mentioned, i did/do not have a "close" relationship with my dad, but
rather an awkward, resentful one.  But today something happened.  I called him
for the obligatory "Happy Father's Day" call and we talked a bit like usual.  
But at the end of the call -  he said "I love you".
The words i went for decades at a time not hearing from him, just Mom saying
"you know your father loves you" and inside i'd scream to myself "why doesn't
he tell me so?" and his yelling and criticizing indicating otherwise to me.  I
can't recall his initiating an "i love you" to me since i was a preschooler.
I felt sad whenever i'd see daddy/daughter affection anywhere, and have found
myself seeking that feeling of male approval but nothing else is the same.

Now it seems different.   Maybe I can forgive him for all the other stuff now,
becuz he's human and he loves ME. :-)  

lostcause@gmail.com says...

My short term memory is about shot. (it never was very good). I tell people
you know what's good about Alzheimer's? New friends every day. My
g-grandfather went senile. I never did notice any difference with him. My
grandmother took care of him and she had her hands full. He took me under his
wing when I was a small child. I used to skip school to go over to his house
and eat pancakes.

If she's like me, that would be the case.  When my bio-father died, I
cried for three days, because at that point, any chance he would have to
explain why he gave me up, why he never tried to contact me was gone.  I
grieved over what never was and now never could be.  (And before people
jump in and say.. how do I know he never did or wanted to, because he
*did* do all that and more with my brother but not with either myself nor
with my sister)

Ummmmm, no, not really. My ex was the epitome of the good father,
supportive, verbally encouraging, affectionate, all that to our son,
and to me for that matter.

But, then again, I'm not like my mother, either. She has stuck with my
dad for over 47 years despite his ... emotional shortcomings.

And, the truth is, I don't know what my dad was like before his wife
became severely mentally ill and for the good of his daughter he gave
her up to her maternal aunt and uncle when she was age 7. Maybe that
changed him. I suspect, though, that he's always been this way
emotionally. The aunt always believed it was his fault that her sister,
my dad's first wife, became ill in the first place (not likely as
apparently their mother had a similar issue).

And, although I understand that my dad has probably been trying to
"make it up" to his oldest daughter (until I was 13, I thought that was
me) with the letters and the e-mail, I can't help but feel a certain
amount of envy. She's only known him in his post-retirement, more
mellow years. I have all those formative years of criticism and lack of
encouragement. He sees us to the door when we visit now and stands
there expectantly until you hug him (of course he would never make the
first move), and even though I do it, it is awkward and unnatural as
heck.

I find myself tongue-tied around my dad. He is not someone who has ever
discussed his feelings about anything or anyone to my knowledge, even
my mother. I have no idea what goes on inside that head and heart of
his. And I suspect that he has little idea of what goes on inside mine.
He has always been the absent-minded professor, seemingly uninterested
in the "mundane" conversations that are usually a basic part of life.

My ex always said I needed therapy due to my lack of self-esteem which
he felt stemmed from my relationship with my dad.

But lest I paint my dad as a complete zero, he was very much present
during our growing up. He was a professor, was home for dinner every
night, bounced us on his knee when we were little and helped us get our
shirts off before going to bed, listened to our prayers with my mother.

He played games with us -- Monopoly, chess, Scrabble, Hearts, Casino.
He taught me how to crochet. We took 3-week long camping vacations as a
family most every summer from 1968 when I was 9 until we all grew up
and left home. We saw sights, hiked hikes, set up camp together. He
taught us things, explained things, he did Cub and Boy Scouts with my
brother. He helped me with my abstract algebra and group theory
homework in college (I still never understood it).

Despite all that, he never complimented one report card (he always
found a typo or asked a question about something, never said "good job"
or anything like that), he showed no pride in our accomplishments, he
was very critical and demanding so that it seemed impossible to ever
please him. (I have a tendency to do this with my son, but he keeps on
my case about it and I try not to as well.) When I graduated from
college, despite having had quadruple bypass surgery 6 weeks earlier,
he sat up on the dais with all the other faculty instead of with the
rest of the family.

I want him to acknowledge me as his daughter and say I matter to him. I
don't want to have to ask him to do it; for me, things like that "don't
count". Which is why if he dies, Bill, it's going to kill me. I'm never
going to ask him, and <sigh>, he's probably never going to say it.

Sorry for being so long-winded... It's been a really long and rough
couple of weeks. -- Barbara Sz.