Little Girl Not Forgotten

Last night I had trouble getting to sleep because of thoughts that needed some working through. This happens once in a while and I've just accepted it and don't bother fighting for sleep anymore. I have thought about my biological father a little more often since a visit with a friend where we discussed our sadly similar childhoods as far as being abandoned by our fathers. Although I used to think that I'd reached some resolution about it I now realize that's not the case. Occasionally, like last night, the wound opens unexpectedly and its impossible to close it quickly enough to prevent the flood of emotions from pouring out. Last night I started out thinking that my little daughter who adores and looks so intently to her parents for approval is about to turn 6 years old. What an age - she's just beginning to learn the importance of her place in our family, the importance of her place in the world, what her destiny can possibly be. The journey will be long and focused for both of her parents, to ensure that she owns the tools she needs to succeed in 'True Happiness' for herself and her family when she grows up. Unexpectedly it then occurred to me that I was just her age when my 'daddy' whom I adored and looked to for approval, left us and didn't look back or so it seemed to me. He sadly compartmentalized us into a category that he could not face and so just filed us away in the past and moved on with his life. The thought of my little 6 year old losing her daddy at her age makes me literally sick to my stomach. Parents divorcing or leaving their children behind is something that happens so frequently in this age and apparently continues to grow worse as more justifications are now accepted as credible. I've heard parents say things like "its better for the children - they shouldn't be around all that arguing" or "I can't offer them what they deserve so they're better off without me around" Translation: "I want to live the way I want with more independence but without the nagging conscience so I will justify it away". I would go to the ends of the earth to prevent my children from knowing the pain and long term suffering of losing a parent - surely because I have lived it and I understand what it really does to a child and how it affects their entire lives as they become adults with so much baggage to overcome. When parents divorce, kids don't just lose one parent - they lose both. This is because inevitably the 'single' parent left with the kids ends up having to work more and/or is stretched too thin to care for the enormous emotional needs of even normally developing children, much less those of emotionally unstable children of divorce. Its clear that the family was designed to have both parents working together at full throttle to meet children's needs emotionally & physically. Anybody who has kids, knows that even with two people it sometimes feels as though you can never get caught up. What makes me the most sad about my father is the wonderful memory I still have of him before he left. He would come home on Fridays from driving a truck and we would wait watching the door when we heard his truck drive up. I still remember so vividly the way it felt when he opened the door - the squeals of excitement and pouncing on him. He'd hoist me up and sometimes give me his chewed gum (to me a special privilege). I remember exactly the way it felt to be held in his arms his smile and teasing way that made you feel like a million dollars. Kisses all around, playing horsey on the floor with the boys. I remember once when he had at least 3 kids hanging on him, one on his neck, one his back and one, probably the baby, he held in front as we walked across the "trail" to our grandparents house where he picked a fig and shared it with me. He was such a huge part of me, I loved him so much and will never forget the 'feelings' from that happy time. There aren't many more memories of him - most have faded. I remember the day that he left for good. It was right at dusk on a warm evening. Apparently mom (mama at that time) and daddy had explained that he was moving away though I don't remember that part. I do remember following him out to his truck where he gave me a hug said "I love you baby" and drove away. I remember the exact way his truck looked the exact way the lighting was and the exact way it felt to watch him drive around the corner, past my grandparents house and out of sight. I stood there looking in the direction his truck had gone for a long time, hands clasped on top of my head off and on. Desperately willing that he would come back. I stood there in the yard alone for a long time as the light faded in the sky. I didn't want anybody to see me cry. That would become who I was thereafter, never to let anybody see me cry and never let anybody in. At some point - maybe in the following year I wrote him a letter and remember begging him to please come back, with drawings of a crying faces along the sides. I look back now on that and see the significance - how completely confused and hopeful I must have been still to have thought that he might come back if I could just get him to understand how much I was hurting. He didn't answer my letters or come back, and when he did visit maybe once a year he'd always bring a girlfriend to put between us and himself. I now know that he did it because he was afraid to face us alone. Eventually I began to feel resentment toward him and remember telling mom that I hated him - she would always just say "don't say that, you don't mean it - he loves you in his own way - he's had a hard life" not very helpful to me at the time. She did the best she could. Having 5 kids and no financial support from their father meant she didn't have time or energy to coddle her now wrecked children as they tried to cope with their enormous loss. I became very introverted - playing mostly alone on the playground, extremely insecure and anxious to the point of not being able to walk with a natural gate - desperately shy and afraid to put myself out there which made it difficult to make friends. Its funny I haven't said the word 'daddy' in many, many years in reference to my father - and strangely as I thought about him today I realized something. I remember still talking about him frequently after he left and still referring to him as daddy - I don't know for how long maybe several years. Of course I still referred to him as 'daddy' because that's all I knew him to be. Eventually, as kids do, I transitioned to calling him 'dad' - but I never understood why this subject has always been sensitive for me. I just realized now that its because 'daddy' was a term with deep feeling attached - of mutual love, devotion, security, adoration. I guess the significance for me is that when I stopped calling him 'daddy' and switched to 'dad' - he wasn't even a part of my life - in a way it was as if I finally let go of my daddy and stopped hoping he'd come back. Maybe I was old enough at that point to see the reality. To this day the term 'dad' has no feeling associated with it for me. His leaving us behind went against everything I knew up to that point in my short life. All that I'd known to be true and certain was suddenly turned completely upside down and I couldn't count on any reality to be what I thought it was. I remember feeling very confused, deeply frustrated, sad and worst of all - alone, no matter if others were around. Thanks to God for my oldest brother who was 11 at the time - he suffered quietly in his own way and took on the responsibilities of comforting and caring for us little ones and never letting us see that he was down.

I still struggle to forgive my father - and my mother for her part whether fair or not. It's not because I don't want to forgive them, but because I don't know how yet. I am working on it and completely trust God to grant it to me in His own time and in His own way - I wouldn't even speculate how it will come about. My dad has had a terrible life and I can't even imagine going through the things he has but so far that hasn't helped me reach true forgiveness. I've been surprised and amazed so many times at the way God provides what we need and at the way He answers our prayers. It almost never happens the way I expect. But it always works out better His way than anything I could have dreamed up myself. I'm learning to trust Him and be patient. That's worth everything when it comes to those things in life that frustrate and confound us. As a young kid - no older than 10 but maybe even younger - I decided certain things about the way my life would be when I grew up. I knew that I would marry a man who would be a very good father and husband and would never leave us - no matter what - I reasoned that most likely to get these qualities I'd have to forfeit any hope of being attracted to the man (I'm not kidding - at age 10 I dreamed this up) but I was committed to that sacrifice. I also knew that I would stay home with my children and have a happy home. These things God has given me in His own time and way - and an attractive husband to boot! He has provided for me all that I could have hoped for and much more. And definitely not in the way I expected. And I have learned that He expects you to work hard for it but he mercifully gives you the understanding and encouragement you need if you ask for it sincerely. Its a meaningful and full life if we understand there's a much greater purpose for it than just following the masses of unhappy or uncertain people who go through life not being sure what it's all for. Writing this has been surprisingly emotional for me - I've cried sitting here but feel grateful more than anything for where I am now - as I sit here I'm being served play-dough cookies and water from my little chef who's using my muffin tins to tout her wares. I have my happy home. God never left me and He never forgot my pleading prayers from so long ago.