It’s been 12 years, I think, but it feels like less than that. Twelve years have passed since the weekend when my mother packed up the kids and left my father. Since then, he and I, once very close, have grown apart. I used to drive by a Starbucks, see his very recognizeable car parked there, and excitedly careen across two lanes of traffic so I could go inside and sit across from him, hidden behind his newspaper, so I could see his face when he noticed that I was there. Since then, we’ve spoken less and less, and my efforts to bridge the gap went to waste. The last time I called him was a recent birthday. I left him a message, and he didn’t call me back. I stopped trying. He’s suffered through medical trouble and financial trouble, and all along he refused to look at himself, and instead has chosen all along to blame my mother. My sisters have continued to try to keep alive the lines of communication, with mostly the same results as mine, excepting my older sister’s family, who my father is evidently not afraid to ask for money.
Older sister called me on Saturday. I was surprised because this is the time of year where she and her family are found on a vacation island many miles south and many degrees north of here. She told me that she spoke to my father on Christmas. In conversation about what’s going on with the family lately, she told him about my mother’s medical situation, and his response was to suggest that it was karmatic retribution, and that my mother was getting what she deserved for what she’d done to him.
She was disgusted. Understandably she says she’s done, which is where I already was. Younger sis graduated from college this month, and next month a big family dinner is planned to celebrate. As of this moment, she wants to invite dad, but she’s out of town and hasn’t yet learned of the things he said. I think when she does, she’ll change her mind.
Filed under: Uncategorized