Me, My Family

Sperm donor, daddy, jackass, grandpop……loser!

Around Christmas time I posted about my father and his meeting with my girls.  I use the term “father” since it would be politically incorrect to say sperm donor.  My life would probably have been easier if he had been just that a donor.  Some dude who did his thing behind a closed-door expecting anonymity.  Instead mine was just a weak and pitiful male human being.  One who cheated on my mother and had nothing to do with us as children.  One who would show up sometimes for visitation with us with a possible new wife or girlfriend.

So, we are about 6 months out from the big meeting. If anyone is wondering how that has gone I thought I would share an update.   Following Christmas, the girls had contact with their grandfather.   A few phone calls, a card at both Valentine’s day and Easter.  He calls, they answer I have nothing to do with any of it.  I have no interest in a relationship with a man who left me when I was a mere baby, a man who showed up from time to time with different girlfriends/ wives each younger than the last.  A man who never felt a second of responsibility in his life.

I accepted years ago who he was which in my life honestly, was nothing.  To me he has been dead for many years.  It was a tough decision for me but as my girls got old enough to actually start asking the right questions I did not want to lie to them.  They had a right to meet the only living grandparent that they had.  I tried to prepare them not to exect too much.  It is hard to explain how they felt about him to be honest.  The phone calls would last less about 5 minutes and could be counted on one hand.  They of course loved getting $20 in the mail at Easter.  They never spoke about him outside of the calls themselves nor do they ask about him, which it turns out is a good thing.

See, he is the weak, sad, pitiful man I always knew he was.  Recently he decided to stir things up and in the end has done what he always has, what he is good at and he has disappeared.  No more calls.  I told the girls the truth, some people just suck.  My 6-year-old sums it up perfectly, “Mommy, any daddy who leaves his family is not nice anyway so I don’t care if he calls”.

Am I upset about this?  Sure because I allowed him to have contact with the most important, most wonderful, most innocent things in the world, my babies. Would I have loved him to have surprised me and actually stepped up to something, sure!  In the end, he is exactly what I have always believed, a loser!

I have certain memories.  My siblings and I do not discuss my father much.  Between an alcoholic mother and a non-existent father sometimes having conversations about childhood can be tough.  Instead we each have our own memories good, bad and everything in-between.  Some may or may not be accurate but it is how we each remember things.

Since I had the least contact with him in growing up, I hoped that somewhere I had made things worse in my own mind to “deal” with reality.  Sadly, I have to report, that is not the case.  He is truly the  immature, shallow, weak, irresponsible ass I grew up thinking that he was.

To my girls, I am sorry.  I guess maybe lying is sometimes the better way to go.  It does not matter what else is out there, mommy and daddy love you both with all of our hearts!

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Me, My Family

It is all about the kids…a meeting

By the time I was 1-year-old my parents were divorced.  By the time I was 12 I fully understood that my “father” was lacking in many if not all fatherly responsibilities.  The fact that we had to move to a much smaller house, or the fact that we only saw him sometimes or maybe it was the lack of birthday presents, or the fact that they both played the “what did you, (fill in parent here crap) or, or, or…….

I did not see him much growing up and even less  (if at all between 12 and 22, do not really remember ).  I was very angry I can openly admit it.  We went without a lot.  Unlike today, divorced parents were not the norm then so it was rough in school.  Oh, and it was 12 years of Catholic school, (they were even less accepting of the divorce concept.)

I could whine further about the different difficulties growing up but who cares.  For the most part I have lived with a belief of using all experiences to build character.  I am the strong person that I am because instead of dwelling on my shitty childhood I used it to make me stronger. With that said,  I had absolutely no relationship with my father after roughly 12 years old..zip, nada none!

The only reason I saw him at 22 was because he was at my sister’s wedding for a few minutes but we did not speak.  She has now been divorced much longer than she was ever married, and the sarcastic side of me wonders, could he have been the bad luck?

So, over the years my siblings have had on and off relationships with the man which is within their rights. I have had no interest.  When Megan was born a message was relayed that he would like to meet her….my answer was along the line of F— You !

My girls are getting older, asking questions.  I have never lied to my girls about anything.  My mother died in 2002 of metastasized breast cancer. Franks parents both died while he was in college, his mother of the same as mine and his father of a massive heart attack.  My girls until about a year ago believed all of their grandparents were dead.I beliveve it was Madison who was the first to ever pose the question about my father. She was the first who realized we never specifically mentioned my father. Once asked, Is your daddy alive, I had no choice but to answer “yes”.

Many questions came with that “yes” answer.  Why have we never met him?  Why was he not around for you like our daddy?  There are no good answers for any questions posed on this subject tossed from a 6 or 8-year-old.  I thought it would just end this way, two confused girls with questions I would “attempt” to answer either truthfully or not.

And then something happened not too long ago.  Not to get to deeply into it, but my grandmother died, his mother. I do not know if it was the passage of year, the lack of others talking in my ear, the thoughts of my own children regretting the chance to meet the only living grandparent they had but I decided to change years of a solid belief stance.  I told my brother that if their grandfather wanted to meet them, to let him know my e-mail.

Time for bed so a long story needs to end.  After a few e-mails, he was in town…..my father who I have not seen in at least 20 year.  Arrangements were made and it was time for my girls to meet the only grandparent they had.

Thursday Night..the big night.  I had no real feeling either way to be honest.  I expected the worst and hoped for the best.  On the other hand, my daughter, especially my little one were so excited.  “is this my real grand pop?”  she asked?  “Yes Madison, the one and only”.  This was a real Q&A less than 15 minutes  before the knock at the door.  I did not tell them until a few hours before the expected meeting.  I did not want them to live the disappointment I had for years.

In the end, they  had a wonderful time.  He was good with the girls and did great with their gifts.  The fact that he brought his girlfriend who thinks she knows everything, well was tough on me but such is life.  Thankfully my loving husband was around the entire time and took over when I needed to go for a “walk”. His girlfriend was just   nonstop talking or the talk about shit she has no idea about OR she truly proved herself to be one of the most truly annoying (or dumb)  people I have ever met!

I will leave that there, but will admit that I made the right decision in letting the girls meet their grandfather. Not because I have any different feelings about the man but because how happy they are about meeting some one that they thought did not exist.   He watched them dance, watched meg play piano, listened to stories and brought gifts.  That is the definition of “grandparent” right?

That is all  I have for now..this post has taken way too long!  Good night all!

Me, My Family

R.I.P Madeline

Just received news that my Grandmother died.  Sad.   I received the e-mail from my brother, simply stating “Grandmom passed last nite” with a copy of the obituary.  I guess to those who are thinking this seems like a cold way to find out I should put it into perspective.  I have not seen, talked to or had any real thoughts about this woman in over 15 years or more.  She is my father’s mother, and my father walked out on my family when I was about a year old.  He (and his many girlfriends and wives) was around a little when I was young but was basically gone by my teen years.  And when I say he was around, I mean a weekend here and there or the occasional day trip.  The financial support was even thinner. I believe the last time I even saw him was 1993 which was not a pleasant meeting and the first in many years.

I was much closer to my grandfather than my grandmother.  When I was old enough to drive (not really sure how old I was) my grandparents were living with my father not too far away.  My grandfather was ill having survived several heart attacks.  I would go to visit, have lunch and sit with him while he smoked and watch to make sure he did not burn the house down.  He was slipping badly at that point, at times forgetting who I was or where we were but in between we would have a good visit.  That is until I would realize that my grandmother was in the kitchen calling dear old dad to let him know I was there.  I would always have to keep an eye on my watch because I had absolutely no interest in seeing a man who had no interest in me growing up.

After my “Pop-pop” passed, I don’t think I saw her again.  I think I may have spoken to her a few times on the phone but never saw her.

Still sad.  The question I sit here with though is, is it sad because of her loss or because of the stirring of shit it brings back thinking about her, my father, my childhood?

I guess we can just leave it with goodbye Grandmom.

My grandparents holding a newborn me..1971.