#66 -Who's your daddy?

Well, once again, way too much time between blog posts.  One of these days, I may get it right and get in the rhythm of writing every day.

Recently returned from our whirlwind Canadian/Chicago vacay, and a crazy (even though it was short) week of work, and now it's that day.  Father's day.  It has been a thorn in my side for many, many years. I love my husband and he's the most awesome and wonderful father to our sons.  I can't imagine having a better dad for my boys.  He is so not like either his or my father.

But when this day rolls around, and people have social media posts of loving men, amazing dads, men who would make their children feel always safe, always loved, always cherished.  But my father? The giant clam. The liar. The embezzler.  The artist. The father in absentia. The alcoholic. The man who was like two different people.

So, the best thing he did was give me two half-sisters, though that too can be a big mixed bag. They have each other and so much family, and I, well frankly, don't. I can never be as close to them as they are to each other, something that was painfully born out last weekend when one got hitched (#2 for her).  Wonderful to see all HER family, and they are dear and friendly and act like we are close friends.  But we aren't family.

I'm sure people who have lost their father in tragic circumstances, those who had an abusive father or didn't have any father at all growing up, also dread this day.  Celebrating something that was lost, or distancing themselves from the pain of what that relationship was like, or a connection that never existed for them.  For me, I have so few good memories of my dad. And I try valiantly to forget about the pain, the sense of abandonment, the visions of his perfection and generosity as a dad to my sisters after he dropped us as his "family."  And yet, I felt so much closer to HIS parents than my mother's parents.

I can't heal that pain.  It will never go away.  I just let it fade into the background.