"Hi, Tiffany, this is your fah-tha. Give me a call when you get a chance."
My dad left me a voicemail yesterday. After a series of connections (me to my oldest half sister after finding her on myspace, my oldest half sister to my sister after I gave my sister my oldest half sister's phone number, and my sister to my dad after oldest half sister gave me his number which I gave to my sister) he's come into my phone number.
To give you the short version of the long backstory, I'll just say that I haven't spoken to my father in almost fifteen years. This is mostly due to the dysfunctional relationship between my parents. My mother is one of those women who likes to make life difficult for everyone involved after she's scored (she also likes to blame her children for her relationships falling apart even when we were nowhere near spitting distance of her men). After the divorce it was understandable that there would be estrangement between the two, but it was wrong of her to try to keep our father from us. On the flip side, he's not blame-free. He always knew where I was, and I haven't lived with my mother since I was nine. My grandma wouldn't have cussed him out for calling.
I'm not mad at him as much as I am confused. I think about my son and get all weepy and irrational when I think about going back to work and sending him to daycare. How can any person who calls themselves a parent allow someone as crazy as my mother to take their kids and not try to be present at least part of the time? It boggles my mind. If only he knew what kind of shit she put us through.
He called yesterday evening...around 7, I think. I'm sure he was afraid that I would have some sharp words for him, but fortunately I didn't hear the phone. I haven't called him back yet because I'm just not prepared for several minutes of uncomfortable conversation where we "catch up" on what I've been doing in my adult years.
He and my mother are about equal on my "scale of scorn" right now. If they didn't spend all of the late seventies and eighties peering through a cloud of pot smoke, they'd probably realize that they they're crappy parents.
Posted by Tiffany at February 6, 2007 10:42 PM | TrackBack