Chapter 9: Butterfly Kisses
These next two chapters will probably be the most difficult for me. It's been over a year and I still feel like I haven't actually processed anything. Not to mention the guilt I now feel for so many years of resentment that I can't take back. That was another reason for starting this blog...I NEED to cope with things. I NEED to stop bottling everything up. I NEED to cry, scream, whatever needs to be done, but I'm hoping just writing it will help for now. Here we go...
I'll give you a little bit of background on the relationship between my father and I so that the next chapter makes a bit more sense.
My parents divorced when I was around 7-8 years old, and I had always been a daddy's girl. I don't remember all of the details, I mean common..it was over 10 years ago. Bit's and pieces of them fighting I can remember. Like hearing my dad's wedding ring bouncing down the driveway after he threw it and then coming into the house and punching a hole in the wall..those kinds of things. But for the most part they kept the arguing away from me.
And I fixed the hole by hanging a piece of paper over it LOL
I remember when he was staying with my uncle and I had gone to spend the night with him...he picked me up late from daycare and was on the phone the whole evening...and I can remember laying in bed watching this dolphin thing sway until I fell asleep.
Everything else about that time is fairly hazy though.
That is, until my future step-mom came into the picture. Everything after that I can remember clear as day.
The first time I met my stepmom...my dad, her and her 2 boys picked me up at daycare. I had been an only child up until this point, hadn't seen my father a whole lot, and suddenly I'm wedged in the back seat between two kids that I don't know (one of which was playing with MY daddy's watch), while I'm watching my dad kiss this woman I don't know at every red-light between my daycare and my aunt's apartment.
It was a very confusing, uncomfortable feeling.
Who is this woman?
Why is my daddy kissing her?
I don't wanna be here...
Where's mommy?
I was old enough to understand what was happening to an extent, but it was still very overwhelming.
We got back to my aunt's apartment (my dad was staying with her at the time) and the majority of the evening was fuzzy after that. My step-brothers were still very young, maybe 2 and 5? There's 3 years between each of us. So of course they required a lot more attention than I did. We were all sleeping in the living room on couches that night, my dad and step-mom on one, the two boys on a blanket on the floor between the couches, and then me on the other couch.
This night still haunts me to this day.
First time I've met this woman, first time I've seen my dad in awhile, and on the couch 5 feet away from me, my dad and this stranger are having sex. I don't mean respectable quiet "the kids are near and sleeping sex". I mean my step-mom screaming like a gorilla while they moan each other's names kind of sex.
To this day I'm still extremely uncomfortable even being in the same house as anyone having sex if it can be heard in the slightest bit.
This went on for hours while I laid on that couch bawling before either of them realized I was awake. I know it was super late. I can remember my dad taking me outside afterwards while I begged him to let me call my mommy and have her come pick me up, and he bargained with me that he wouldn't kiss my step-mom in front of me anymore if I stayed. Neither of them realized I was awake the whole time.
Hell, it took me 15 years to even tell my dad about that night.
Needless to say, no part of me wanted to be around my step-mom. But shortly after that, her and her boys went back up north for a short time. I can remember my dad crying when they pulled out of the driveway.
Once they came back south for good, everything changed. My dad decided to switch office locations and move a little over an hour away to where her and her boys were. Leaving me behind, and us being on an every other weekend rotation.
Every other weekend of never having one on one time with my dad.
Every other weekend of living out of my suitcase and pulling pajamas out of 1 dresser drawer that had been cleared out for me.
Every other weekend of fighting for my dads attention because my step-brothers were so much younger.
Every other weekend of sleeping on the couch, unless the boys were off at their dad's house.
Every other weekend of begging my mom not to make me go, but not explaining why, and crying when it was time to go home because I didn't want to leave daddy.
My step-mom and I didn't have the greatest relationship at first. We butted heads A LOT. And dad's way of making up for missing out on so much was just buying me anything I wanted, or cooking my favorite meal anytime I came over, or sending my step-mom and I out shopping.
Between that, and my mom raising me to be independent, that's probably why I cringe when any guy I'm dating tries to pay for anything or buy me something expensive.
You can't buy love.
Years went by on this every other weekend rotation, and eventually my half-sister came along. I tried to be excited. And I was a great big sister, lemme tell ya! But it was hard. Now I was losing even more time with my daddy. More of his attention was off of me and on the other kids. I don't remember much around the time that my sister was born...or much thereafter. I loved my sister. Just like I loved my step-brothers. It was just difficult not being angry when I couldn't even walk outside for a 5 minute conversation with my father without someone getting an attitude.
Once I started driving, the every other weekend rotation stopped. Between jobs, and a social life, a 2 hour drive round trip wasn't all that appealing. Especially since I didn't really have many friends up there. Once it was no longer mandatory pick up and drop off and I no longer felt obligated to make the drive, the visits became less and less frequent, heck, the communication died off in general. But the guilt trips started.
I haven't seen you in forever.
Are you ever gonna come see your dad?
Your sister misses you.
You don't love your old man.
I'd end up going over once a month, sometimes more. Sometimes just for day trips. But 9/10 it was me making the drive. We'd talk maybe once a week, tag each other in silly stuff on Facebook...whatever the case may be. But as I got older the pedestal that I had him on slowly started to disappear.
Don't get me wrong, my dad was a great person. He was a hard worker and was the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off of his back. A fairly honest individual. A lot of people adored him. He was always there financially for me. And if I needed to talk he was only a phone call away. But getting him to do anything over the years for me was impossible.
In fact, I remember him telling me he wouldn't be able to come down for my senior prom because it would mess up my sister's routine and she wouldn't sleep without him home.
I couldn't even get 1 night of him to myself.
I was the child he couldn't make time for. I didn't get to see him everyday. If we did talk on the phone, most calls were me talking while he carried on a conversation with someone else in the background. My step-mom, half sister, and step-brothers were the priority. I was just the one he bragged about on Facebook when I would do something right. The occasional picture he would share, among the millions of the rest of the kids. That's how I felt anyway.
The worst part for me was one weekend when I had decided to go over there...let me remind you that at this point I'm 20-21 years old. I'm living on my own....etc.
But here I am sitting on the couch, mad as hell as I watch my dad and sister bond in the kitchen. Scratching my head and trying to figure out why this was making me so angry. Why the pictures on social media profiles of everyone BUT me would get under my skin so bad. Why I was jealous over my 9 year old sister. And it hit me.
I didn't get that time with him. I didn't get the cooking lessons at the age of 7. Instead, I was dealing with shared time with MY dad with kids that I didn't know. I didn't get the fishing trips. The big family pictures. The hunting adventures. The being there for nightmares. Whatever the case may be.
I got a drawer.
I got money handed to me, or things bought to make up for the absence.
I got the guilt trips when I wouldn't answer a call, because I had nothing to say, but he was paying my phone bill.
I got the heartache, knowing he chose another woman and her kids over being close to me.
I was the 8 year old in the backseat, crying, asking my mom why daddy didn't love me and how come he never called.
I know I probably sound like I'm complaining. And that I'm ungrateful. At least he was around to an extent, right? At least I knew him. I know he loved me in whatever way he could. But sometimes it felt like his part time existence was worse than him just being absent all together. And I didn't always resent my step-mom either. As I got older we started getting along more, and she became one of my best friends.
I finally let him have it one day. Told him EVERYTHING. Well, whatever I could get out between sobs and choking up. I've never been all that great actually speaking about issues. I know the conversation hurt him. But he needed to know.
And things we're better for a little bit. He even came down to my neck of the woods to visit a few times. But shortly after that he quit his stressful job that was killing him and since all of us kids were grown (except my sister) they made the decision to move to PA. Back to where my dad grew up. He had always talked about wishing he could go back.
One of his excuses was always that he didn't want to be that far away from me.
You already moved away once, and even being an hour away you're rarely there. What difference will another state be? Was always my thought.
Eventually he approached it with me, and basically asked my permission. Who was I to say no? I was on my own and a big girl now. If he was going to be happier, then go. Within in a month they were gone.
Two years went by before I saw him again. But once he got the phone call about me being pregnant, things changed. They changed for the better. There were more phone calls. Regular texting. Actual effort. And when they flew down for my brother's graduation and my baby shower, I actually felt important for once.
He was so excited to be a Grandpa. To finally get a little boy. He had already been threatening me with guns and buck knives and him being up in the tree stand with him...
