Many of you are aware of how much I miss my father. Many, I’m sure, cannot understand how I could love and miss a father who molested me. I was on Facebook yesterday and a video of Dancing With The Stars came up in the feed – one showing Bindi Irwin performing her dancing tribute to her father. During rehearsal they did something that instantly brought back a memory for her and she ended up in tears – at the same time I ended up in tears. It was tears from missing my father as well as tears from wishing I had a normal childhood, a normal relationship with my father, one without abuse.
My father is a tough subject. The fact that he and I were able to not only build a relationship but also a close one is rare I think. I used to believe it was simply because we were forced to stay a family after the abuse came out but now I see it as a bit of a miracle. After the terrible thing that happened to me, I still got to have a father. Do you know how lucky I am for that? It is purely by way of love and forgiveness.
With my memory blocks, I don’t remember a lot of the good times we had together, not like Bindi did, but I know they were there. And as an adult, we shared many good times together that I do remember. I cherish them and wish I had been more present during them. We take so much for granted in not realizing that a loved one can be gone a flash.
I don’t know how I got past what my father did to me, especially considering I have not been able to do that same with my brother. Perhaps it’s that my father did very little to me before I told. Perhaps it was my denial that I held onto for so long – I didn’t really start to deal with my childhood till after my father’s death. Perhaps it’s because he apologized and it was sincere and I saw him become a different and better man. Whatever it was, I am thankful for it. I don’t look at him and see my abuser, I see my father. Would hating him have made his death any easier? I miss him so very much and I wish I didn’t. Especially after the family estrangements, he was the only one that still knew me, still showed he loved me, still believed in me. I think those things made his death even harder.
I guess our relationship was a miracle. I don’t know if it make any sense to anyone else, as sometimes it doesn’t even make sense to me. I guess I just miss my dad and am thankful I can call him that.