Choosing to love someone despite their flaws (part 1)
This is not advice. By no means do I think this is a universally correct way to approach relationships. But I chose to meet my dad where he is at. I wanted to maintain a relationship with him but also keep my heart from being hurt over and over.
My relationship with my dad has been rocky over the years. My first memory of him is of me asking my older sister “who’s the man that picks us up?” before we spent the weekend with him for our weekend visitation. She had to explain to me he was our dad, which was confusing because I called someone else dad at that point.
In my next memory of him, I am staring at his back as he stood in the doorway of the small house my mom was renting. He stood in the doorway not allowing my (soon to be ex)stepdad to enter the house my mom moved us to after she filed for divorce. I remember the fearful look when she realized her soon-to-be-ex-husband was coming to take us back with him. In desperation, she called my dad. He sped from several towns over and made it just minutes before my stepdad arrived. My dad used his body to physically block the door, physically block us from seeing our unwanted visitor. I remember his tall, broad frame in the doorway, haloed by the sunlight. I had felt safe and protected in him shadow.
After that, I saw more of my dad but it was infrequent. I had not known it at the time, but my dad struggled with addiction. For every weekend he came to pick us up for visitation, there would be a weekend I sat outside on the porch with a Walmart sack of clothes for hours waiting for him. My mom would eventually make me come inside. But the next time he did show up, I would be too excited about spending the weekend with him to remember my earlier hurt. This is a pattern that persisted into my 20s. Excitement and hope - disappointment and hurt.
My mom use to say “your dad is a good dad when he can be”. I didn’t understand at the time, my small heart hurt with each disappointment. Looking back with a better understanding, I’m glad my dad stayed away when he couldn’t be stronger than his addiction. I’m glad I only have memories of him sober. I got to only have the memories of him buying me chicken pot pie (still a favorite of mine), him teaching me how to play dominos (and absolutely kicking my butt every time), and him making me food. He would show me his collection of pocket knives and take me to antique shops. I had to learn early on to be careful telling him I liked something he showed me because he would just give it to me, which is how I got the Gerber pocket knife I still keep in my purse.
I was 15 when I first met my little brothers. I hadn’t seen my dad in a few years when he called up my mom randomly to see about us having a visit at a local park. It was like no time had passed, there was never any awkwardness no matter how long it had been. My brothers were both less than 2 years old, one just a little baby. Having my brothers kept him clean for a couple years, so I had a couple years of regular visits. One of my favorite memories was of him taking me to a bookstore to buy the next book in a series for my birthday. That was the first book he had ever bought.
… continued in part 2.
xoxo, Ducky