From as early as I can remember I knew that my Dad was actually my step-dad. I can't remember when I found out officially. To me, he is and always will be my Dad. Even with all the crap that we have gone through, and there has been a lot, he will always be my Dad. I was the red-headed step-child, both figuratively and literally.
I was around the age of 10-ish when my Mom pulled me aside and said that my biological father was going to be in town and wanted to know if I wanted to meet him. The thoughts that ran through my head at that very moment were overwhelming. I did want to meet him. I wanted to see if he loved me. Why didn't he want to meet me sooner? I didn't know but I knew one thing. I wanted to feel loved, like I belonged.
Then the realization slammed into me. If I said I wanted to meet him, my Dad would feel less than. I know what that feels like and I didn't want to subject him to that. He didn't deserve it. My Mom insisted that it would be ok if I wanted to do it. I knew though, if I decided to go through with this, the fights would ensue. On the nights that my Dad would drink, his rage would be aimed at me full force. The anger of me bringing this man back into our lives. Letting Mom see him again. It would all be my fault. I couldn't take that pressure at the young age of ten.
So, I did the one thing that I knew I would regret. I told Mom I didn't want to. I went to my Step Dad, "I'm not going to meet him, Dad. You are my Dad and I don't need to meet Charlie." Part of me told him so that he would love me more. I wanted him to see how much I loved him and return that love. I would chase that love for my entire childhood to always come up empty. The house was always divided. My Dad on the side of his children and Mom trying to side with me. I would always be the step child. A Bamford (said like a disease from my Mom of all people). This was something that I would be reminded of repeatedly.
There has been so much hurt that I have had from that relationship. The constant running after the loving father. It showed up when I started dating as well. "Daddy issues". A little girl needs a father's love. If she doesn't have it she will always look for that love. That is why, when I see my husband take my daughter out on "dates" it warms my heart. He takes her out and shows her the love that she deserves so that when she does start dating, she won't accept any less than the best. Because, fuck, doesn't she deserve it? Doesn't every little girl deserve the love of a father?
Recently when attending the funeral of my aunt, I was faced with the same question again years later. My uncle pulled me aside, "Charlie wants to know if he can see you. Whatever you decide, I will support you. No pressure. You just let me know." I asked him if I could think about it. He said, "Of course. Take your time." I thought to myself, why now? I was a grown woman with a family of my own. Why did he want to meet me now after all this time? Where was he when I was little and in desperate need of that love? Was this new found need to be a father because he lost his sister and was feeling guilty?
I took the time to think about it and went to my uncle Mike to let him know that I decided. I didn't want to see him. His response was like a slap to the face, "Oh, it's ok. He called and said he changed his mind." The rage that I felt in that moment. He changed his mind!?!?! He couldn't even man up and let me make the decision. He chickened out and was scared of the rejection so he decided to reject me first. Little did he know that I was used to rejection.
As an adult now, I realize that there are some areas in this life that will never be fixed. As a child, I honestly thought that as I grew up it would all work out. I would eventually have a relationship with my biological father. It has never happened and at this point, it never will. I no longer search that out. What is the point? Just a lot of hurt and anger down that road. Unfortunately life has taught me this, if you venture out into the unknown and it bites you, be careful. If you try again and get hurt, walk away and never seek that out again. The pain isn't worth it.
Who knows. Maybe that is what he thought to himself when he said he changed his mind. He was afraid of the bite. I guess, in light of that, I can empathize with him.
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