**WARNING** This is not appropriate content for people without feelings. Or is it, with feelings? In other words - it's my B.S. rant that I feel entitled to share on my blog with 9 followers. It's dirty laundry and I'm airing it out. So sue me.
My dad and I aren't close. Never have been. He left when I was a toddler and as he moved from Spokane to Seattle, to California and finally Arizona, my time with "dad" was relegated to a few weeks over the summer breaks. And a birthday phone call, a Thanksgiving phone call and a Christmas Day phone call. This was how my dad raised me.
I'm not going to talk about how he raised my older sister - because even though it's the same, it's different for her. And he actually did reside with my younger half sisters, all the days of their lives... so their story is also different.
One of my most memorable Christmas gifts from my dad was when I was 18. I received a stuffed monkey (stuffed animal), 3 hackey sacks (for juggling) and a coloring book and crayons. When I say memorable, don't mistake that for meaningful. It was - memorable. Not the other.
As time went on - about 8 years ago the calls on Thanksgiving stopped. I decided it was because he knew that we were always hosting my mom and stepdad for dinner and it was awkward to call when they may be here. I get it.
About 5 years ago the calls stopped coming on Christmas. But this part gets better... wait for it...
Birthday cards stopped coming 3 or 4 years ago and only the day before my 40th birthday, did I receive an email saying - "Happy Birthday, it's a big one this year, right?" No phone call followed it up. And the card was obviously lost in the mail. Same with the year before that and these past two years since then. Granted, I'm not great about sending cards - and I used to call him on his birthday - I guess I have always made the excuse that I'm the kid, it's the parents "job". That's not a good excuse, but when I see what the other "kids" treatment and entitlement is, it's hard to not feel the way a "kid" would feel under the circumstances. I don't care how old I am, I am still ONE of the kids he left once upon a time.
Two years ago - this is the part I wanted you to wait for - I received a TEXT on Christmas morning from my dad that said "Merry Christmas". The end. The boys get cards for Christmas and their birthdays - so there's that and I'm fine with that. What I'm not fine with - is knowing that while all of his grandkids get birthday gifts, cards, and Christmas gifts and cards and some of them airline tickets to visit over the holidays - so do all three of his "other" daughters. They're flown to Arizona from Chicago and Spokane, they have gifts around the tree, they eat, drink and be merry. We've never been invited. Nor have my kids been flown down for any reason... no holiday, not to spend time with them, not for anything. Unless of course, we paid for it and went on a family vacation.
Last year, when my dads Christmas card came with a check in it, I returned it. It was the second or third solid year that no phone call or card for my birthday in October, no call at Thanksgiving... and I was angry. So I sent it back.
This year - when Sarah died - and I was the one asked by my mother to notify my dad - (which I had already done... though I admit, I remember phone numbers and addresses like nobody does and I struggled with that one in the car on the way to Montana) I thought that things might find a way to normalize - because times like this "do that". (That's a funny word to use in a dysfunctional family [which everyone has...] but to "normalize" dysfunction - that's funny, but it's a real thing. Ask anyone who will admit they were part of a "D" family, and they will tell you. It's a survival thing. Or something.) Of course I thought that all that is so wrong and so bad with my sister and I would find a way to crumble and rebuild... but it didn't. It hasn't. It won't. And that's a sad deal. And so now I know that wasn't going to happen with dear, old dad.
Don't get me wrong - it's not like during all of those years - those were the only times we talked and it wasn't him doing all of the calling. I did - many times. Just like I called my sister nearly every day that she lived in Bellingham, Everson, the town with all the churches... ergh..., Deming (up until 7 years ago) and then there's my mom - who I also called every day. But I got tired of being the only one to ever call any of them. So I stopped. The one constant I could ALWAYS count on - was the call from my dad on my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas.
This year - my dad flew my sister and her daughter down to Arizona, my half sister in from Chicago (and probably her boyfriend), and has his other daughter, her husband and two boys living with them. No one invited us. Not a word other than they were flying them all down for the holidays when they were here in September during that awful time.
So tell me - how come someone doesn't come up with a "No Child Left Behind" gig for families. It's not like I'm addicted to meth, been in and out of jail, got in altercations where cops have been called, gamble, wreck cars and wreaked havoc on my family their entire lives. I'm not the "Larry" of "Parenthood". Sure... I told lies as a kid. Lots of them... It was my defense mechanism - and what's so great now, is I'm no longer the story teller. I love that part... but that's a whole other story. So it's not like we're scum of the earth, embarrassing to be around, wouldn't want my kids around those kinds of people - people. My kids are all uber smart, successful, pleasant and polite young men. My husband is funny as sh*t - well, funny as funny is... and I'm his freakin daughter. Does that mean nothing?
Apparently so.
I have wondered all along if I would air real - REAL life on this blog and todays card from my dad gave me the answer. My Christmas card from my dad says this:
For a Daughter and Son-In-Law
Who mean so much.
<open card>
Life seems so much simpler
at Christmas.
The things that really count
are somehow easier to see...
We only need to look
into our hearts to find what matters -
the warmth of home
the love of family.
<open again>
Whether near or far at Christmas
the best gift is knowing this -
We'll always be connected by love.
Merry Christmas
(written) Merry Christmas guys, Papa John & Cheryl
Uhhh... aren't you my DAD?
Included in the card were these:
I'm not entirely sure what the buttons signify - only that they fell out of the card when I opened the envelope. They are silver... the end. Ryan opened his card (Zach and Jeffreys' didn't arrive today, they'll get here soon I'm sure) and he actually didn't get buttons, but cash. I am so thankful for that because I wasn't sure how I was going to explain why Papa John flies everyone to Arizona that's connected to him through his daughters (minus me of course) and then gives us buttons. So, at least there's that awkward conversation that doesn't have to be had.
Good news is, if you're looking for a few glittery, silvery buttons - I'm the person who can get you what you need!
***UPDATE*** Upon further inspection, we didn't actually receive buttons for Christmas this year. They were originally glued to the card but became unglued in it's travels through the USPS.
Good news is, if you're looking for a few glittery, silvery buttons - I'm the person who can get you what you need!
***UPDATE*** Upon further inspection, we didn't actually receive buttons for Christmas this year. They were originally glued to the card but became unglued in it's travels through the USPS.
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