Whiskey & Vows

E I G H T E E N

C H A P T E R  E I G H T E E N || I WANNA GET BETTER

            When I was younger, I didn’t understand why my father left. I barely understood that he left to begin with. I couldn’t have been more than three when he took off, but it was that prime age where your father influences a lot of your decisions and activities. It was clear my mother hoped he would come back too, because each time I asked where he was, she’d say, “He’ll come home”, but he never did.  I never heard from him, which made it harder to cope knowing there’s nothing to tell on why he left.

            I blamed myself a lot. I’m sure my mother blamed herself as well, but I felt it was mainly my fault. As my friends started doing their child father-daughter dances and Father’s day cards, I started wondering what I did to cause my father to leave. Was I bad baby? Was it too stressful on him and he had to leave? Did I make him unhappy? There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think about him and what his life was like.

            As I got older, I started to become angry with him. He didn’t contact me or even seek out to see what I looked like or if I was even alive. My hopes for having a father soon died and I was faced with the reality of a shitty father. I became angry and glad he left; what good would he have been anyway? I also began to realize he could have his own family again, someone replacing me and my mother; a whole new life like this one didn’t exist. I didn’t think it was fair.

            My mother and I didn’t have a bad life; she did her best to make up for the stuff I missed. I grew to the realization that I didn’t need a father in my life when I had a mother who loved me. I stopped focusing on what I lost and looked at the woman who raised me.

            I let go of my anger.

            My mother and I weren’t perfect; there were some days where being a single mom had taken a toll on her, and some days she was Super Mom. I was close with my mother from the day I moved to college and still to this day.

            I didn’t forget about him completely; I often wondered what life was like for him, or if he even thought about us. I couldn’t imagine why he would leave his wife and kid, but he did and we managed fine without him. My father leaving taught me people weren’t permanent; they would come and go and if they weaseled into your heart, they could break you. I shut myself out from relationships in fear of it ending like my father. Even with Derek, I still wonder if one day I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone, already tired of me.

            Derek may think that I don’t know anything about having a father, but I do know what it’s like to hold onto anger. It consumes you until you’re unbearable to be around and can’t be happy over the simplest things. It makes you a miserable, bitter person, something no one should be. There comes a time where you let go of your anger and hurt, because everyone deserves to move on from their past and face a better future; it’s just a matter of being able to cut the string between then and now.

            He could say what he wants, but he doesn’t know what it was like. At the end of the day, he has a father who cares about him, and is slightly trying to be a part of his life again. It’s a start-a scary start, but it’s a start to either a relationship or the end of one. Derek wouldn’t see it that way; he’d see it as the world throwing pain his way and he can’t stop it. He can stop this pain; he can let go.

***

            His side of the bed was empty when I woke up this morning. I knew it was Monday morning, late enough for he and Andy to be at school, but late enough for me to miss it. Derek’s side looked untouched and perfect from making the bed yesterday, causing my heart to sink.