Daddy Dearest

"You need a license to buy dog or drive a car, hell, you need a license to catch a fish.  But they'll let any butt reaming asshole be a father."  ~ Todd (Keanu Reeves) in Parenthood

Harsh words, but only because they are true.  Think about all the stories of dead-beat dads out there.  Some of you might even know some of these guys.  Someone said, "Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad."

Growing up, I had a great dad.  He was my biggest fan and cheerleader ~ almost to the point of embarrassment.  He did his best to raise 3 kids at the poverty level, and yet managed to give us many of the extras kids love.  Dad did everything he could to be at the events that were important to me and supported everything I pursued, even when the distance was considerable.

And then, I grew up.

When we moved over 150 miles away from my dad, and my kids were very young, I tried very hard to visit as often as was possible.  It is important to me that my kids know their family.  But after years of being the one to make the 320+ mile round trip and making all the phone calls, I got tired.  The highways and phonelines run both ways, last time I checked.  So I took a break and was no longer the one to initiate contact.  Which is to say that there was no contact ~ for almost a year.

Then my dad decided to remarry and I became pregnant with my second son, and I thought it was important to keep the relationship intact.  But it was more of the same one-way effort, which again became tiring.

One Halloween, the family was at my brother's house for Trick or Treat.  Dad had to drive through my town to get to my brother's place, but he never let me know that he was passing through.  Ok.  He knew he would see us there.  I told Dad that there was only weekend in Dec that I could come up for the holidays and asked if he would be around.  That was hunting season, but he was usually back from the woods by afternoon.  We were staying with Josh's sister anyway, so we could get together with Dad for a late lunch or dinner and not interrupt anyone's plans.

The week before we were supposed to visit, I called Dad to make sure everything was still a go.  No response.  I tried again a few days later.  Again, no response.  Dad finally called when we were enroute to my sister-in-law's house to say that he had been hunting with my brother all week and he could save me a trip by stopping by on his way home.  That would have been a great plan ~ had he told me when I first called him several days earlier.  Or I could have taken the boys over to my brother's house any day that week to not only see their grandfather, but also their cousins.  Instead, we were carrying on with the plans that were originally made (since other family was expecting us) and we never did see Dad for Christmas that year.

But then, this was not the first holiday season that we missed visiting my dad.  There was the year that he changed his phone number and didn't tell me.  When I called the number I'd be using for him I reached a bowling alley.  I sent him a card wishing him happy holidays and letting him know that I no longer had his number ~ only then did he call me.  And he makes a few visits to my brother's house every year ~ once again, he has to pass through my town to get to my brother ~ yet, he never thinks to let me know that he is passing through, never asks if he could stop by to see his grandkids, never suggests that we meet up at my brother's house.

I haven't seen my father since that Halloween, nor have I talked to him since that Christmas.  I have made the obligatory phone calls on his birthday and Father's Day, but had to leave messages.  He did call to wish me a happy birthday this year, but he has a habit of calling late and I was already in bed.  Have I gotten a phone call just because he hasn't heard from me?  Have my boys gotten Christmas or birthday cards?  Have my brother's kids?  Hmmm.

This all sounds like jealousy, and maybe that's a miniscule piece.  But it's more my spiteful nature getting the upper-hand.  Do I love my father?  Absolutely.  But, my father doesn't seem to care to make the effort to keep the relationship going, why should I be the only one to work at it?