Choosing to love someone despite their flaws (part 2)
… continued from part 1.
I was 17 when I first visited my dad in jail. My mom picked me up from school and let me know he had been arrested for murder. It didn’t fully sink in what that had meant so when I talked to him through the plexiglass I just told him about school and my friends. My mom helped me write and send letters to him until he was released a few months later after the case was dropped.
One good thing that came out of his stint in county jail was that he fell in love with reading. He had even read Twilight, which was a favorite of mine at the time. Books gave us something to bond over during the infrequent visits the following years. During these years he missed one too many of my birthdays, not a text or phone call or even Facebook poke. Then, upon getting engaged, my new fiancé and I made plans to visit my dad to share the news. Even thought the trip had been preplanned and he was expecting us, he never showed up. To his own house. My now-husband and I waited for hours. My poor husband had no idea how to navigate that situation, me being obviously upset but still holding out hope. I was still that little kid waiting on the porch with my bag of clothes, waiting. My husband made the call my mom had had to make every time my dad let me down - the decision to stop me from continuing to wait for my dad. He never called or texted to apologize.
I was a few years into university when my dad’s new wife called me to let me know he was in rehab. You wanna know the good think about jail or rehab? I know exactly where he is and it’s some of the only times I am almost guaranteed regular communications. It made me happy to send him care packages. He missed me getting married because he was in rehab, but that was okay. I eloped.
It was at this point that I took a step back and had to admit to myself that I was tired of my heart being hurt by the exact same behaviors. I kept setting an expectation that my dad had never once met before, setting him up for failure and setting me up to be hurt. I had a decision to make, keep doing what I’m doing and keep being hurt, cut my losses and end my relationship with my dad, or meet my dad where he was at and keep him in my life. I chose to meet my dad where he was, accept that he will disappear for months or years at a time, he would forget my birthday, and that he would constantly get new phone numbers and addresses. And it was good. I grew closer to my dad, his wife, and my brothers. Though it was infrequent.
Then, I finished school and got a job offer halfway across the country. To a state I had never been and with no family around other than my husband and my cat. It was a big step. I called my dad to tell him the exciting news, but immediately started bawling as soon as he answered the phone. Hearing him ask “hon, what’s wrong?” just had me crying harder. Even through all the disappointment, I knew I would miss him. I think deep down I was worried I would never see him again.
I didn’t visit home very often in my first handful of years after university (hello, 2020), but when I did I made time to see my dad and brothers. He was always the hardest to say bye to.
Then, I got a call from his wife. He had been arrested for murder (again). It has been a few years since his arrest now and he didn’t get off like the first time. He was sentenced to 40 years. He has been very honest with me that he doesn’t expect to live that long, expecting to die in prison. It makes me beyond sad to think of him in prison. He’s not a bad person. But, of course the family of the man he killed would disagree. I am not disillusioned to think my dad has no flaws. He has enough to fill a house. He is impulsive, has a life-long struggle with addiction, is racist, is hot tempered, is fickle, and owns guns when he shouldn’t. But I also know him as someone who protected me when I was very small and afraid. Someone who would sit with me for hours at the dining table to play dominoes. Someone who loves history and reading. Someone who will scoop baby frogs from a puddle after it rains and carry them to the pond so they don’t die. Someone who laughs at my humor. Someone that tells me he is proud of me all the time.
Because he’s in prison, I know exactly where he is and how to contact him. We talk everyday. I enjoy sending him care packages. While I wish he were not in prison, I do not disagree with the verdict. I know many would not understand my continued love for my dad. And by no means should the take away be to lower your standards.
I just wanted to tell the story of my dad from my perspective. This was a long post, thanks for reading.
xoxo, Ducky