My biological father's suits are expensive. They always have the richest fabrics, the silkiest ties, and smoothest shirts. His suits portray a sense of richness, of privileged life. In reality, though, this is not the case. My father owes tens of thousands dollars debts and child support money. His promises were rarely kept. As I hopefully watched at the window for his scheduled visitation, he failed to arrive more times than not. Sometimes he would pick me up, than pay someone else to watch me. Days were spent with someone I didn't even know. Christmas and birthday gifts didn't arrive, even when he said he was on his way. Even though he dresses as though he is rich, it is a sham. Deeper secrets are held beneath the surface of my father's suits. He is a struggling man, a liar. His whole life is a lie, starting right on the surface, starting with the suits.
Standing next to my father as a child always made me feel small and frightened, like any second he might erupt. Being with someone who often got into verbal fights, was out of control, drove unsafely, and even tried to kidnap me from school was a nightmare. When I think back on my earlier childhood, I cannot picture a time of laughter or happiness when I was with him. The stories I was told by others come back as a web of confusing facts. I was so young when all the drama took place; I can only rely on my memories and their stories. Despite that he tells me he loves me and wants to take care of me, he has never actually transitioned these feelings into actions. In the web of his lies he is the spider, and I am one of the poor bugs that have gotten caught in his web. Many other people in my life are captured in the web, just like me, unable to escape. The dichotomy between the image he portrays and the reality of his life troubles me. Does leading a double life based on his lies trouble him?
My father, to me, is my father by blood and legality, but not by love or affection. He is a man who has lied to me my whole life and to everyone that should in some sense be important to him. I only carry with me a few happy memories of my biological father. One of these memories was at one of my birthday parties with my father, ex-stepmom, and brothers singing "happy birthday" to me. The feelings I recall having are those of happiness, and in a sense, completeness. After that, I have only have a couple memories of being happy with him. His suits, his excessive spending on himself, while neglecting those he says he loves represent to me the surface features of his deep-seated lies. His suits symbolize to me lies represent to me everything that I despise about him. His lies have made our relationship break at the seams, like a cheap suit he would never wear. From the very beginning, he made the gaps grow, until they grew bigger and bigger, until I am here now, weighed down by his lies, stumbling at the precipice. He may present himself as an accomplished man, a rich man, and a benevolent father; but that is just a mirage. Underneath that mirage is a lie, a deep lie that cuts into my soul. My father's suits are expensive, but they are a lie.
