Birthday Wishes For a Dad

Today would have been my dad's 105th birthday...he was born in 1914 and passed away in 1999 at 85 years old. And I continue to love and miss him.

My dad was a lot of things to a lot of people; he was a son, brother, father, grandfather, step-father, uncle, jeweler, inventor, businessman, horse owner, and gambler. 

He was a lot of things to a lot of people, but for me, he was mostly unavailable.

I have some memories of my dad, but not as many as I would like because like many families, my family was dysfunctional. It was over a year before my dad was even aware that I left home at fourteen years old and told not to come back by my step-mother. Whenever he asked where I was or why I wasn't at a family dinner, he was told I was rehearsing for a band concert or play, studying at a friend's house, or at a sleepover. He never questioned my step-mother...and because it was probably easier to believe that I was out with friends than to confront my absence...he let it be.

Things changed a year later when I bumped into a sister-in-law and she questioned me about why I was never home, not at family dinners, or holidays. I simply told her that I hadn't been invited...that I didn't live there anymore. She informed me that my dad didn't know. I thought how could that be...I wasn't there. But my room hadn't changed...all of my stuff was still there...across from my parent's bedroom.

I made an appointment to visit my dad at his factory...we were suppose to go to lunch, but he said, "I'm too busy today, little girl." He suggested we talk that night when he got home from work.

"We can't do that because I don't live there anymore. She told me to leave and not come back." There was no reaction from him, so I continued. "I asked for my stuff and she said no. She told me I couldn't have it."

He wouldn't even look at me and after the deafening silence, he said, "Come by on Saturday and pick up your things. I have to get back to work now." And that was that. After being away for a year, at fifteen years old, I went by their house on a Saturday morning and picked up two garbage bags of clothes and two boxes with records, cassettes, 8-track tapes, and other miscellaneous belongings that had been left on the porch for me. Through the glass panels in the door, my step-mother told me to take my stuff and go away.

Over the years I would call and check up on them, and sometimes, I even visited...but I was never invited to family meals, weddings, or gatherings.

Other memories I have of my dad include the times I would take my own children to Florida to visit him and my step-mother. I so wanted that picture perfect family experience. My kids loved going to visit because my parents had a dock on the canal, and they loved going to the Disney theme parks. We'd sit for hours on their dock or porch and do nothing. There wasn't much conversation while Dad read the newspaper or watched Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy or some crazy talk show. I didn't spend a lot of time with him, but I did clean out the gutters, rake up the lawn, or work on projects for them while my older son would sit on the dock and fish with him for hours.  If we were visiting on the weekend, my dad would take us to a Flea Market where he had a booth selling recorded tapes, touch lamps, and odds and ends. 

It was during my last visit to see both parents that my step-mother looked me in the eye and said, "You turned out okay in spite of me." I took that as an apology, even though there was never a "sorry" spoken.

Other memories I have are just stories...stories that other family and friends have shared...because they spent time with my dad.

But even with this lack of a relationship and even with his death, whenever I hit a milestone in my life, I continue to think, "I can't wait to tell Daddy."

All I ever wanted was for him to be in my life, to be proud of me, or provide me the comfort his "little girl" craved.

When I was in the ICU awaiting my open-heart surgery, the nurse asked me if there was anyone she could call for me. "Yes, please call my dad."

She asked my son for his grandfather's phone number, but sadly, my son told her he had passed away and there was no number. When she asked me again if there was anyone she could call, I whispered, "No."

A mentor gave me some advice when my dad died...she told me to choose a star in the night sky and whenever I wanted to share something with him or felt like I needed him, I could look up and connect with that star. I picked the middle star in Orion's belt because it's the easiest for me to spot in the night sky, and even all these years later, I continue to connect with my dad through that star, prayers, and words of meditation. And even though I was fifteen years old the last time I heard him say this, I can still hear my dad calling me "little girl"...and I hope, too, that he can hear me say, "Happy Birthday, Dad. I love and miss you."

Until next time...

Blessings!

Lisa