It’s been about 15 years since I’ve seen my dad. I can honestly say that not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him. Granted, maybe not all of those thoughts are sweet, innocent or gentle. Sometimes I fantasize about killing him. Sometimes I wonder how my life would have turned out if he stuck around. Sometimes I wish that I could have or will be able to change him.
He showed up in Temple City this week. Not to see me or Andy, but to see my aunts and uncle. Thanks, DAD.
So I sat outside today thinking about him more and more. Where were you all these years? You claim to have missed us….but where were you? What have you done with your life? How have you changed? How have you stayed the same? Are you sorry? Do you feel guilt? Do you feel pain? What is your life like these days? What is your favorite color? Do you know who I am? Do you want to know who I am, who I want to become?
I ask these questions in my head. They’re stuttered between wishes of him suffering. The man who “helped” to create me. I dream about him getting cancer, dying alone, feeling immense pain and distraught. I want him to suffer the way he made us all suffer.
After I think these thoughts, wish these wishes, ponder these questions, I just come up with:
“YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO MISS US. YOU WALKED OUT ON US 15 YEARS AGO AND NEVER LOOKED BACK. YOU DESTROYED OUR FAMILY AND LEFT US TO BUILD OURSELVES BACK UP. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO STUMBLE BACK AND APOLOGIZE.”
People become parents all the time. Every hour, children are born, made from two distinct gene pools. But that’s all. Just because you shot sperm into somebody or were able to ovulate on the right day does not make you a parent. Being a parent takes time, care, concern, practice, patience, love. Nobody is just born with the right to be a parent. Gender, ethnicity, social standing have nothing to do with it. It’s all inside. Your actions will either determine you privileged enough to be a parent or not. This is what I’ve learned.
As far as I’m concerned, my dad, my father, the male role model in my life’s initials are JRP and he lives under our roof. He’s never beat me, he’s never stolen from me, he’s never kicked me when I’m down.
So go away, EDR. Go away and stay far away. You don’t want to know me. Because nothing of who I am, you helped to create.