My relationship with my dad has always been…strained. At least, for as long as I can remember, though from the stories I’ve been told, my dad really enjoyed spending time with me as a baby. My mom would say it was less to spend time to me and more to annoy her.
My dad worked the overnight shift when I was baby, which meant he would come home from work well after I was asleep. Apparently, he would sneak into my room and wake me up so he could hold me. This would lead to me crying and waking my mom. And so…it would ultimately irritate her. I like to think that, at least at one time, my dad sought out my company. That stopped when I started forming my own opinions.
My parents divorced when I was around 9 years old. My brother was 5. It didn’t damage us as much as some people claim divorce damages kids. What really damaged us was my dad’s displaced anger. He was mad at my mom for what happened between them and felt it necessary to take it out on us. So, more often than not, spending time with my dad consisted of walking on egg shells. And, we were bad at walking on egg shells.
Fast forward almost 2 decades and nothing has really changed. In fact, things got so bad between my dad and brother that my brother completely cut off contact with my dad. I tried, but due to his inability to show me love as a child, I constantly seek love and reassurance so I had to prove to myself that he could love me, (viscous cycle). Years of therapy helped me identify this–lucky me.
My dad moved down south 5 years ago and occasionally comes up here to work. Sometimes he makes time to meet me for lunch. During this visit, I was fortunate enough to receive an hour of his time. So, we got to our normal restaurant and talk casually as to avoid any points of tension. Relationships, football, work. He mentions his plans while he is here. Somehow he manages to see his friend several more times than he sees me; but, I remind myself that it’s not worth the fight to point this out.
Lunch takes 45 minutes. We have 20 minutes to kill before he has to leave for work. We leave the restaurant, which is located in a mall, to walk around. We’re not even 25 feet out of the restaurant when I am forced to participate in the most awkward experience of my life.
My aunt–my dad’s sister–comes strolling by on her way to the escalator. Unaware that my dad and his sister aren’t speaking, I greet her with a giant smile and hug. The tension between the two of them gets so thick I can’t move. She glares. He glares back. She looks away. I manage to stutter a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year before she walks away.
My dad laughs. And laughs more. “I knew she’d be here. She’s off of work and has no friends,” he says and then closes the door on the subject.
I still have no idea what my aunt did to deserve such treatment, but the insecure child in me who just wants appease my dad, reminded me of how difficult it is to walk on egg shells around my dad. Clearly, my aunt gave up trying.
View From A Rooftop 