Me Toothe first time I met my father , I was about three and he didn't say who he was. Introduced as my mother's friend, he had us to a cookout at his parents' house. They didn't say who they were either. (When i found out this was him many years later, my mother said the ploy was his idea because they were not sure the reconciliation would work out.).
It didn't. I was told my father was dead.
In my early teens, after a decade of believing him dead, I found out from a cousin that he wasn't dead after all. He just didn't want to support Me. Didn't want to be a part of my life.
I'm in my mid-40s and still cry myself to sleep, thinking of the day he met his daughter and didn't say who he was. How could he?
I don't have enough space or tears to write the whole story. I couldn't read the other stories here --not yet anyway. The tears just flow. Father's Day is agony (I saw that post). I used to try to buy him cards and gifts but he really never bonded with me. Just trying to negotiate all the cards that spelled out all the things he didn't do was agony.
The relationship is estranged He treats me like a bill collector he'd rather avoid. The year my beloved grandfather died leaving me mother and me in financial trouble, my father fought me in court to resist having to pay for my medical insurance--after years of neglect.
Now, thanks to the internet, I know he was pursuing a master's degree and taking trips at the time we were struggling.
My anger got worse and worse and I lost my temper with him and his second wife. He could be dead and nobody would tell me.
I don't want to be so angry.
I don't want to blame him for all my mistakes with men, all the attempts to turn people into father-figures and ending up in horrible messes. I don't want to be so hurt and angry. I want to have normal self-esteem and normal interactions with men, especially older men. I want to have a real dad --or at least be able to forgive and let go and be ok on my own with God as my father.
Thanks for listening.