Father's Day
My father called me on Father's Day. He called me. It wasn't that I'd forgotten it was Father's Day; I'd spent the morning in church with my Papa, then gone to lunch afterward with him and Moma. But this was my father calling me on Father's Day. And it was strange.
I stammered out a "Happy Father's Day" and then went through a five minute conversation. It was the first time I'd actually spoken to my father on Father's Day in over 20 years. And he called me.
I had just spent seven days at "home" visiting family. I didn't, however, get a chance to see him or his side of my family. It's a new experience for me - including them in on my annual visits. For so many years, they were out of touch. All because my father decided to disappear from my life. As much as I missed him, that was his choice. I could accept it. But with him he took a half-brother, a niece, a nephew (both born later), an aunt, four cousins (one I never knew until now and one through marriage), and two second cousins (children born during my absence). A whole other family. He made the decision to cut us off from each other. Because without him as the link, we couldn't connect.
My brother suffered the most, I think. He's 10 years younger. I remember from the time he could walk whenever I would come to my father's for weekend visits, my brother would follow me everywhere. He never let me out of his sight unless he accidently fell asleep. (I think that's actually why he started crawling and then walking so early - to keep up with me.) We would even wait for him to go to bed on Sunday night before my father would return me home. From roughly the age of 2 until he was 16, my brother and I were separated. We reunited at 16 and 26 respectively when my mother and our father began dating again. But when that went sour, as I knew it would, my father disappeared (heartbroken no doubt) and took my brother with him.
Last year my father's sister called, out of the blue, and initiated a reunion for everyone. Not my father called; my aunt called. So after so many years of neglect, why do I feel guilty that my father called me on Father's Day?
I stammered out a "Happy Father's Day" and then went through a five minute conversation. It was the first time I'd actually spoken to my father on Father's Day in over 20 years. And he called me.
I had just spent seven days at "home" visiting family. I didn't, however, get a chance to see him or his side of my family. It's a new experience for me - including them in on my annual visits. For so many years, they were out of touch. All because my father decided to disappear from my life. As much as I missed him, that was his choice. I could accept it. But with him he took a half-brother, a niece, a nephew (both born later), an aunt, four cousins (one I never knew until now and one through marriage), and two second cousins (children born during my absence). A whole other family. He made the decision to cut us off from each other. Because without him as the link, we couldn't connect.
My brother suffered the most, I think. He's 10 years younger. I remember from the time he could walk whenever I would come to my father's for weekend visits, my brother would follow me everywhere. He never let me out of his sight unless he accidently fell asleep. (I think that's actually why he started crawling and then walking so early - to keep up with me.) We would even wait for him to go to bed on Sunday night before my father would return me home. From roughly the age of 2 until he was 16, my brother and I were separated. We reunited at 16 and 26 respectively when my mother and our father began dating again. But when that went sour, as I knew it would, my father disappeared (heartbroken no doubt) and took my brother with him.
Last year my father's sister called, out of the blue, and initiated a reunion for everyone. Not my father called; my aunt called. So after so many years of neglect, why do I feel guilty that my father called me on Father's Day?
