So because my father didn't think he had hurt me enough, he decided to one up his last moment of douchebaggery.
Yesterday, after things had just settled down a little, my brother, Josh, called. He wanted to know why I wasn't at Dad's garden party, and I fibbed and said party because the kids didn't feel well. Then he asked why I wasn't going to the cabin this year since he was going because he thought I was. I told him the main reason I didn't go to dad's was because of the conversation I had had with him on Thursday. I just didn't feel like putting forth any more effort with someone that didn't appreciate it. Josh went on to tell me that my dad was giving his portion of the cabin to my brothers. Just my brothers.
I was poofed out of my heritage that quickly. It's basically cutting me out of a family legacy.
And it hurt. It hurt so bad when Josh told me this. He is going to Montana with our dad and step-mom to go over the rules and procedures and then sign papers taking over his portion. From then on, he can go whenever he wants and take all his friends.
His immature, drunk, pill popping friends.
But I can't go and neither can my kids.
I want to call him and ask what the fuck? What did I do to you? Was I that horrible of a daughter? Did I disappoint you that much? I thought you promised to never abandon me or turn your back on me? You promised to always be there for me and my family, what has changed? Was that all a lie? What about when I was little and you told me I such a special little girl, you just had to be my daddy. You may not have created me, but you chose me. You gave me your name when I was 2 and promised to everyone that nothing would change. So what the hell? You promised when you and Mom got divorced that nothing would change, but now it seems you have forgotten all your promises to me.
The minute my brothers were born, I fell to the wayside. I did, it's not just me being the stilted older child. Before they were born, my parents took so many pictures and videos of me. I was the center of their worlds. My dad would play hide and seek or tell me stories for hours. There are many pictures of us playing games or snuggling. But the minute the twins were born, the pictures stopped. We all watched our home movies once after they had been transferred to DVD, and I'm not kidding you, you can watch it and tell when things changed. I wasn't in a single movie once they were born. Not one. All the pictures are of him holding the boys, and me off to the side.
I have known throughout my life that he has had a separate set of rules for us, he has always given them whatever they wanted while I was told no. My mom and grandparents tried pointing this out to him numerous times, but he would get angry and break out the "you know I'm a councilor and that I know what is right and wrong so let it be" and they would step back. But I tried to look past that and block the bad times from my mind because at the end of the day, he was my daddy, and daddy's love their little girls no matter what, right? I think believing what my heart told me would have killed me back then.
He wasn't always so callous with me. He was the one that was at every softball game, golf match, tennis match, school play, choir or band concert, etc., etc. for not just me but my brothers, even if we had baseball games on the same night. He would take me to the driving range or putting green to work on my golf swing before a big tournament, or take me to the batting cages. He paid for private flute and piccolo lessons. He would watch in the dark while I got my ass handed to me on tennis, and then take me to get ice cream.
But when he found out from the school counselor that I had fainted in the bathroom because I had been making myself throw up everything I ate, he went crazy. He yelled at my psychiatrist that I was just an attention junky and I was just doing it to get attention. That I didn't have an eating disorder. Even when the doctors found a heart murmur and he had to take me to Seattle yearly for heart testing, he did it unwillingly. He was furious with me. He said it was my fault, which it was, but didn't show any compassion. He still let my brothers say I was a fat pig (I was a size 14 in little kids and looked very gaunt in pictures) because he said I had to learn to ignore people.
But when I had Mason, he was in the hospital with me, he followed the ambulance to Tacoma and didn't leave my bedside the whole time. He took a week off to stay in the hospital with me when my ex husband couldn't get the time off. When I started to crash, he was holding my hand and crying, praying with my grandparents that I would make it. The night Mason was born, he stayed in the room with me, holding my hand and getting me water, making sure the nurse gave me medication so I was comfortable. Because Mason was so early and wouldn't' fit in any of his clothes, he went out and bought 10 new preemie outfits and made sure we had preemie diapers delivered to our house. He made sure Josh and Jason came to visit, even pulling them out of school to see us.
Where did this Daddy go? I felt so loved by him then. It wasn't' what he bought us but it was the simple acts of kindness that made the day shine a little brighter.
Over the years, things have gone so downhill. When I called to tell him I was divorcing my husband because I knew I didn't love him and I just couldn't' fake it anymore, he encouraged me and told me he was proud that I was getting out before we started to hate each other. He said it took a very mature person to sort it out. But then, a few months later, he changed his mind. He said I should have worked it out. And I reminded him that not only didn't I love my ex husband, he also, um, hello, did something very illegal. Sorry, I don't stay married to people I can barely stand, especially when the are in trouble with the law.
You would think now that I am married again to someone who any person can see makes me happy, and with 2 more children under my belt he would would be happy for me. But he isn't. He barely acknowledges Jay, which I don't get. Yes, Jay is like a 28 year old kid, but he is also a wonderful husband and daddy. He provides well for us, and would lay his life down to save us from harms way. He is also very smart, which my dad normally appreciates, being a very smart man himself. All he had in common with Sean was a huge love of sports.
Anyway, my point is that he has not been an active part of my life in ages. Once he got remarried, he just kind of put me aside even farther. Just me. He still sees my brothers often, inviting them over for dinners and holidays. The only reason I saw him on Father's Day was because I happened to talk to my brother and he said dad was having a barbecue and had invited them over. Even though I had just talked to my dad, he hadn't mentioned it to me. So I kind of just stopped by because I was getting Mason from Sean.
After I talked to my brother yesterday, I just cried. Huge sobs, shaking body, you know the kind you feel are suffocating. I finally talked to Jay and he was sad for me. He doesn't speak ill of my dad out of respect, but he was honest with how he felt. He doesn't like seeing me like that, especially when I have nothing to deserve it. I talked to my mom, and I think she was just floored. She said she didn't think anything he did would surprise her when it came to him, but this was something she didn't think he was capable of. He took my heritage away from me.
Everyone agrees that I should call him, write a letter asking why. But I think knowing why would hurt more that not knowing. I don't want to hear him say he regrets adopting me, because that would make my whole life a lie. It would make me look back on my childhood with regret and sadness. I don't want to hear him say I have been a disappointment to him. Even though I know I have been a good daughter, I know I made mistakes. But nothing I have ever done should cancel out his love for me?
It hurts to admit that he doesn't unconditionally love me. It hurts knowing I love him more than he could ever love me. It hurts that I still love him, even though he has broken my heart.
It brings back all the old feelings I had growing up, knowing my biological dad had walked away, signing me away to someone else. Yes, I knew he did it so I would have a better life, which I did, but I still knew he had walked away. I knew there was someone out there that was half of me that didn't try to know me. And now, the person that promised 29 years ago to love me like I was his own until the day he died, has done the same thing.
I know he hasn't straight up told me he doesn't want anything to do with me, but he has, by his actions, said I am not his. Because I wasn't born to him, I do not deserve a piece of family history and tradition.