My Dad is a trucker kind of guy. You know the one I'm talking about-the kind of guy who eats meat and potatoes, gets up for work the same time every day and is never late. Oh my father could never be late for work-that's a carnal sin in his book. My father and I grew up isolated from one another for most of my life or so I thought.
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| 1973 would you look at that hair? |
I don't guess this picture tells it all but it could. My father was just 21 when I arrived on the scene, a far cry from children being born to men in their late 40's today. Dad had a fast car and a fast life according to my Mom and she wanted to slow him down by having a family, a cool apartment, and a new blender to make baby food. He wasn't having any of it. He left the apartment this photo was taken in so he could take a shower at my Grandmothers where she conveniently packed his lunch for work the next day. This really bothered my mother and why not it's insanity! My Grandparents were lovingly married for close to 60 years. My Father the middle child between my Aunt Debbie and Uncle Keith, my Grandmother's mid life baby (he still lives with her). I don't think my Dad could do any wrong. He played with matches, never smoked and cruised chicks. He had a hot rod car, a Buick, a fast car and all the ladies loved his long hair and budding mustache, including my Mom.
At various points in my life I wished my Mom would tell me they were madly in love but too young when they married in March of 1971 but that's not the story she told me. She told me she wooed him into marrying her and that would be my way with men too, for a while anyway. I don't remember much of my childhood except that my parents separated and divorced when my little brother Jay and I were young: 10 and 8 respectively and I think that deserves a bronze medal in my book of marriage! They lasted that long-geeez, I can't imagine it lasted that long with his comings and goings and interest in softball-he was never home and that's because the home environment was too slow and there were needy kids there and that took some serious doing. During this time he met my stepmother, she played softball too and she liked my Dad's looks and mystique. I would like her at first and then come to find out who this woman really was: deception.
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| The teen years and my Dad, remarried and seemingly happy |
In this photo I'm wearing my mother's work dress. I call it that because she worked full time plus another job at a deli just to make ends meet for Jay and I. I loved my mother-her style, her long flowing curly blonde hair and her work ethic. She was a hard worker and she never complained about anything. She let me go in her wardrobe whenever I liked to wear her pretty clothes. I always wanted to look pretty for my Dad because I desperately wanted his attention because his attention went elsewhere; to his wife and two new children: boys. Oh yuck, boys. I wanted sisters. One time I told my stepmother when she was pregnant that I wanted her to have a girl and she told me, "I ain't gonna have no girl-ever." That's how that woman worked. The way she treated me was pretty horrible but I took it up with her after I had my own girls and not surprisingly she defended herself to the deathstar.
Growing up through the teen years was bittersweet. I struggled through high school, having boyfriends that were reckless, into drugs, and who verbally and physically abused me. It was a hard journey to get to now but I came out happy, happy, happy and full of spirit but my Dad was never available to me. It's sad really because men don't really know how to be emotionally there for anyone. This is my truth. I don't expect anyone to agree with me. This is just my experiences, my story and the legacy I leave for the girls will be, your Grandfather and I received a
miracle.
I believe now my father has changed, albeit a little but he has changed for the better. In May of 2009 I found out I was pregnant with twins. Can anyone say
elated?! I remember when I found out I was having two girls (which is what I wanted right!), I immediately phoned up my Dad in the car after the sonogram and blurted it "It's two girls Dad!" He was the first to know. That's what I'm talking about. We don't ever stop loving or letting go of our fathers. My pregnancy progressed along nicely for a high risk pregnancy. Many sonograms and putting the feet up and enjoying the nesting process. I'm a fast paced girl so slowing down has never been easy for me-this pregnancy was critical and I wanted children so badly. I was 36 and I did feel like after two losses, it was risky at my age. I also have a blood clotting disorder so my pregnancy was touch and go and shots daily in my tummy. I cringed every time that needle went in.
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| Happy and pregnant beside my favorite gal: Mom |
Then Friday the 13th 2009 arrived. I was scheduled to receive a call from my recruiter telling me I was getting let go as a contractor at Verizon. I was okay with it because I knew I had to get to motherhood soon. I was due December 15th right before Christmas and I couldn't be happier. Shortly before the call I had plans to shower and get down to my friends in the kitchen, preparing and freezing meals for when the babies come but the universe had other plans: my right leg had swollen dramatically and that's when I paged my OB. She called back and told me to report ASAP to Labor and Delivery. What? Now? Really? As folks were pouring in the driveway Friday evening at rush hour, we were rushing out the door to become parents! Yikes!
My then boyfriend at the time phoning people frantically telling them the babies were coming, I was doing fine and they were prepping me for a C-section and to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I was shaking uncontrollably from all of the adrenaline. When my husband called my father he was celebrating his birthday by having beers in his garage apartment alone.
My Grandmother drove him to the hospital and just before midnight on my fathers 58th birthday, my daughters were born. My mother jumping on top of my husband, it was elation, relief and absolute joy for the whole family. Two thumbs up.
GOD did just what I needed him to do. Not only did he bless me with two healthy baby girls but he gave my father the belief that he could start over again with these girls-his granddaughters. My Dad will probably never offer up an apology for the terrible things that happened to me as a young woman and he doesn't have to but he does give my daughters reassurance that their loved by him; they know it and love "Pop Nevin".
It gives me great pleasure watching my Dad interact with his granddaughters. They do have a bond. It's interesting to watch too; uncanny at times. Sometimes I wonder did I have that with him and then I remember he was too young having me and as life unfolded as it quickly does, your already onto your path, driven, unable to change, and forced to accept what you cannot change. He's divorced now from the stepmother, they were 20 years in when they divorced a few years back. Sad really after all that work they put in, even if they still only live 5 minutes from each other and are "available" to one another when the times present themselves. I don't speak of her to my Dad when he comes for visits which are pretty frequent. Weekly visits on the weekends provide my daughters with the love and sense of family that I always hoped they'd have. My mother, GiGi is their standby Mommy and her and her husband GiBob-the incessant clown are the quote on quote grandparents. What they bring to the table is invaluable. It's pure family.
My girls now have a family they can rely on and can be proud of. I'm sooooo happy for them and me.
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| Finding peace with Dad and I |
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| GiGi and GiBob the center of our family |
If you struggle with the relationship you have with your own father, I encourage you to speak the truth to him, through letters, emails, or the hardest part, through the phone. Their is HOPE. I was forunate to receive responses to my correspondences with my father but it was due much to my probing.
I asked my Dad one time ten years ago was he excited when I was being born and he told me he was and he told me his side of the story. That's the neat thing: there is always two sides to a very complex relationship.
