When your father isn’t much of a Dad

So, there’s a whole lot of thinking going on concerning Dads and who I want mine to be, because you see I’ve given myself permission to choose one since I never really had one close and I want someone to dance at my some-day wedding with me, and I can’t really write much about it right now because more thoughts have to happen, more crying needs to be done…  But for future reference, this is how I’ve grown up: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151415036062508&set=a.10150090288147508.281051.784782507&type=1&theater

Unfortunately, Dads don’t always have this sudden change of heart until it’s in the form of their once upon a time wife asking for a divorce and so the only way they know they’re not going to get in trouble is by actually making some sort of effort to be in their kid’s lives 2 weeknights and every other weekend.  Unfortunately, when there’s only two years left of being a child, it’s hard for the child to let it impact her too much.  Especially when she knows there’s a lot of men out there who are good Dads to her, even if they don’t particularly identify with the term Father and prefer things like Peter Pan.  Unfortunately, a lot of the time it’s still hard for her to believe he loves her and wants her…  Because she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that there will always be a part of him that sees her as a chore and as a burden…  Because the trips to pick her up from work inconvenience him.  Because she only gets a half scholarship to college and isn’t majoring in anything he finds truly useful.  Because she’s not a doctor or a lawyer, and so he’ll always worry about her and feel responsible for supporting her, even when she doesn’t want his money anymore.  Even when she’s sick and tired of the value of a green piece of clothe masquerading as paper with a dead guy’s face on it.  She wishes he could understand that everything has a price.  She wishes that when he goes on and on about how he fires people because they take up too much of his time, that (a) he would realize that he valued that time a little bit more when she was still his baby girl and (b) he would see that those rants sound a bit too close to the lectures on needing to get a license so that he can be home doing other things instead of driving around so much. 

“Oh, Father, give me grace to forgive him, because I feel like the one losing…”

And then there’s the persevering part, I wish I could say happy or fortunate or nice or beautiful, but I can’t…  The part where he’s at least making an effort, and she’s crying to convince herself to love him again.  Even though he says he won’t make it through the next 15 years.  Even though she knows that one way or another he’ll leave again way before he should and it won’t be entirely accidental.  Humans are weird things. 

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