Dedicated to my husband and children, and my mother..
for proving that unconditional love is not just found in fairytales
The moment I realized things weren't right, I was sixteen years old. I texted him randomly, asking what he was up to.. "I'm actually in Salem for work!"
It was so nonchalant, as if it was insignificant that the first man I loved was a mere twenty minutes away.. regardless of the fact that for my entire life he had lived nearly 1,500 miles from me, had never once attended a school function, sporting event, or even seen the home I had grown up in. Every summer and Christmas I traveled a good 12 hours via car, plane, ferry and layover, sometimes in snow and ice. I celebrated Christmas more than a dozen times without my mom and sisters, for someone who hasn't cared to watch me blow out my birthday candles in over twenty years.
I'm lucky: I only ever had to introduce one boyfriend to my father, the same man I ended up marrying. Their first meeting was only after WE (as in my 15 year old boyfriend, two best friends and I) got in the car and headed his way on the interstate.. only to spend less than 90 minutes in a hotel lobby and be hugged goodbye.. as if it was insignificant that neither my "protector," or I, had any idea when we would see each other again. By the time I finished high school, we never did.
I would hug him and smell the cologne he'd worn all my life, and hold back hot tears as I turned to my gate so he wouldn't see me cry. I have never felt such heavy loneliness as the moments when I cross over the security barrier in an airport; knowing that until I reach my destination, there will be no one familiar. Knowing that no matter how hard I hope for a flight delay, it won't buy more time with whomever dropped me off. I hate airports more than anything in the world.
I remember the incredible adventures; I began skiing at two years old, learned to walk on the sailboat that became our home, rock climbing with self-set ropes on faces that no one had attempted, reeling in fish that tipped the scales. I remember learning how to handle a gun before I could hold up a rifle, not for my protection or to hunt, but to make sure that I wouldn't be the kid who got curious..my dad made sure that I knew better.
Being three years old and waking up on top of a mountain for cheese and crackers, scuba diving in Alaskan waters at the age of six, holding a live octopus in my hands and looking down the blowhole of a whale while we sailed the open ocean.. Have you ever set up a tent knowing that you were the only person on the island? I have.
My dad is literally Peter Pan. In my own daily life I frequently refer to him as a pirate. He lives in Alaska for one half of the year and Puerto Rico for the other.. on a SAILBOAT. He has traveled the world as a PT, joined World-Famous athletes at the Olympics.. and if you can believe it, he went into medicine AFTER getting a degree in education.
He possesses all the magic and wonder in the world.. He is charismatic, intelligent, successful, handsome, strong, funny, adventurous, hardworking.. The truth is I often wish that I could have met him as an adult and been his friend, I wish I knew him as a person. He is the kind of man you simply enjoy being around, the kind filled with stories of his past adventures and an open invitation to the ones in his future. Unfortunately I was never on the guest list, because the magic stops when you stop believing..
I have fought every fiber of my being to simply stay neutral.. it was always easier to know that communication was always open, no matter how long we would go between visiting. Neither of us willing to say, "enough is enough."
Somewhere along the line the visits became fewer and farther between, every time we spoke was an argument. I spent precious, countless hours crying on my husband's shoulder. The man I married has become the one to carry this burden, the one to wipe my tears and listen when I am questioning my own worth again and again. The one who is plagued with reassuring my insecure tendencies, he has become my protector.
It has been a year and a half since I have seen my dad. This last November he flew to my brother’s house, Canada, Oklahoma and then Puerto Rico. ALL in the same month, but our annual visit was not on the schedule. He doesn't get it.. he doesn't understand the ache that comes from missing someone you love. He doesn't feel the regret, anguish and emptiness that I feel when we part ways. I spend 95% of the year keeping my emotions at bay, burying the fact that with each passing day, I am left with less time to share myself and my life with my Daddy. Distance and disconnect is routine for us.. but once a year he comes to visit, and the moment he leaves I am reduced to the little girl crying on the airplane.
I ushered him out of my wedding reception; reassuring him that my feelings wouldn't be hurt if he wanted to leave the party that solely included my mother’s side of the family. In my white gown on the first occasion that he'd seen my childhood backyard, he kissed me saying, "I'll be headed out before you wake up tomorrow, now give me a hug before we both start to cry." The only sad tears on my wedding day came after he left, not knowing when I would see him next. I carried guilt with me for years afterward, blaming myself for not soaking in every moment.. Instead of asking why he waited till the last moment to tell me that THIS would be our goodbye..
The next year that he visited I took notes.. asked him what time he would be leaving in the morning, I woke up at six just to share an hour on the couch with my dad and a cup of coffee. Less than 12 hours earlier he had told me he was leaving at seven, and yet here I stood in my living room, coffee barely brewed, frozen in shock as he said, "oh now.. give me a hug, I've already got the car running." After he left I crawled into bed with my husband and sobbed..
Corbin has become my Protector, the father to our children who will never leave them questioning their value. He is the kind of man who does not demand respect for the sake of being a father, but one who EARNS respect by being a dad.
Often I will reprimand myself for being so selfish. I had incredible memories with my father, that alone should be appreciated right?
This mentality has quickly faded as I approach ten years, and seven of that as parents, with my soulmate. My answer: to be blunt, is FUCK NO.
It is not enough to pay child support.
It is not enough to show up for the monumental occasions.
It is not enough to call on holidays or keep in touch via email.
Hours before my rehearsal dinner my mother cried to me with anger in her voice.. "why does he get to enjoy you at your best? Why does he never have to see you fall apart and cry, but I do? I have to share your happiness with someone who hasn't added to it, but I've BEEN here, I've earned it."
She was right.
In October I made a promise to the man who has shown me consistency, tenderness, consideration, love.. the man who has rocked his babies to sleep and catered to my every need; the one who is particular about choosing gifts for our little ones because he KNOWS them; the one who wrestled all his life, but has waited to introduce the sport to his son because he will NEVER be the dad who is only proud to share HIS interests with his children.
The one who has proven time and again that a man can be faithful and a father can stay. I made him a promise after being nearly inconsolable, that I would never again spend hours crying over someone who hadn't sat next to me in a year long enough to catch those tears. I would never again pause my life, break down in front of my children, and sacrifice time crying over someone who had never loved his daughter as much as his own freedom.
Today, it has been over a year since I have heard his voice. Today, I told my father that I was done with his absence, done with the disconnect, the infrequent and typically turbulent interaction. I told him that I refused to raise my children to only half-expect a phone call during the holidays. His granddaughter's seventh birthday was this weekend, mine was in January. Christmas has passed.
Not. ONE. Phone call.
If you ask him, he would say that a phone works both ways.. but I have been the one responsible for our contact since acquiring my first email account.. I was probably nine at the time. The last time I tried to call him on Father’s Day, I was informed that he was hiking and had poor reception, but that he was usually available during the week. Weeks passed after that and he never called. I still have the wooden wine rack that I had custom ordered, the gift that I kept out of spite, telling myself I would ship it when his name read on my caller ID.
Today I read the words on the screen, "Have a wonderful life Kate, take care and be well."
This is the day that my life changes. From here on out there will be certain topics that sting and days that suck. I can feel a dull aching pain in my heart, and I will always wonder what I could have done differently. I know how to hoist a sale, I listened when he taught me how to wrap ankles.. I paid close attention when he was showing me how to tie a bolen knot.. maybe if I finally got certified to dive he would visit me more..
I am intelligent, hardworking, creative.. I'm a good listener and I am loyal. I have spent so long working towards being "enough," when I should have spent more time being content. It is time to become content with the fact that being "enough" is different for different people; and that instead of feeling like I've fallen short, it is time to begin acknowledging that I have exceeded the expectations of many others..
I will no longer succumb to the bar that was set by a man who can't raise a candle to the one I married; one who couldn't appreciate a wife like the daughter he opted out of raising, and who didn't care to instill a faith in his children that I can only PRAY for my babies to have in me.
I am worth being proud of.
I am worth calling.
I am worth visiting and loving.
I am worth the faithfulness my mother deserved.
I am worth the father that I expect my husband to be.
Today will forever mark the day that healing begins. To the man I loved more than any woman ever could:
Tell them they can have you, I'm done.
Photo credit: La Bel Amour Photography
August 24th, 2013
Published By: Kathryn Chitwood
Copyright 2017 Kathryn Chitwood
Smash words Edition
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