I've been contemplating a lot on depressing things lately. I think it's the impending parenthood thing that promotes it, but all the same I wish I could just think "happy thoughts." Rainbows and bunny rabbits and shit like that.
I haven't spoken with my father in...nigh on ten, twelve years. I was visiting my mom in New York and my sister had called and asked him to come by. He took us for a ride in this van of his that had a side door that kept sliding open whenever he hit the brakes. He bought us Slim-Jims. It's been so long that I can't even remember how old I was at the time.
Normally, I don't really give my father much consideration, because, quite frankly, he doesn't deserve it. If he and my mother had stayed married and I'd had to live with [either of] them I'd probably be institutionalized right now. He always wants what he can't have and she's a bit of a ballbuster.
Regardless...sitting here thinking about him is giving me acid reflux, and I mean to the extent that I can taste what I ate two days ago. What kind of person do you have to be to not be the slightest bit curious as to what your grown children look like or whether your grandchildren resemble you? There's no excuse. Well, sometimes I think that my mom may have inadvertantly explained it when my sister had her first kid. "Don't let Jadah call me 'grandma.'" I think she was 39 at the time. She told people during her [second] wedding that my sister and I were her sisters, and they believed it.
I'm going to chalk it up to immaturity. That's what it has to be. He's immature, and his parents (my paternal grandparents whom I haven't seen in at least 20 years) are inexcusable. Creeping towards AARP eligibility has got to be tough for him, the poor thing. All that womanizing and still no son to bear his name.
Folks, don't let your sons grow up spreading seed and not make him feel the burden of the consequences. I hate how society thinks it's okay for men to be promiscuous (supposedly so that at least one person will be experienced during the honeymoon) but women have to be chaste. HELLO, IF WE WERE ALL CHASTE WHO ARE THE DICKWADS GOING TO BE PROMISCUOUS WITH?
Sorry. The hormones are running away with my sanity.
The sad thing is, I really could care less that I didn't have my father in my life after my toddler years. I'm sure that I could have used a positive male influence somewhere or other, but I've already crossed that bridge. I'm pissed because I'm a caring person and want to know if he's okay.
I read the Jennifer Weiner book Good in Bed
I got some news through the family grapevine last year, I guess, that he's somewhere in Ohio with yet another wife and yet another baby daughter (what's that, Pop, 5? 6?) I did a whitepages search for his name and found a bunch of listings in various parts of the state. I have no real way of paring those down (he doesn't have a middle name and even went as far as to make up an initial to put on my birth certificate), but even if I did, what would I do if I found him? I told myself for a while that I would write him a letter telling him about everything he's missed and send pictures; that seems like a very forgiving thing to do. I don't know if I'm that forgiving.
He never gave me a chance to express that I didn't need or want anything from him but a five minute conversation once per month. If I found him, I don't know if I would want to open him up to my life just to be disappointed again with how much of a flake he is. I don't know if I need my son to know both grandpas.
I'm still thinking about whether I really want to find him.
Posted by Tiffany at July 22, 2006 10:37 PM | TrackBack