My Mom

My life without a dad. My life without a father. My life without dad. How do I word this? Let's see... How do you put into words that which you know little about? A dad, in whatever sense of the word, is one such thing for me.

Now if you ask me about mom, that I know. I'll tell you that, although she wasn't perfect by any means, and her similarities to myself at times caused a clash of the wills, a mom to me was someone who woke me up in the mornings, taxied me to and fro -- in wind, rain, sleet and snow, and at all hours of the day or night. She baked the sporadic batch of cookies and got me to be the taste tester of her occasional new crock pot creations. She was someone whose eyes I could search for the truth about how I was doing in life, or get the real opinion on the clothes I was wearing. The one who would be honest, though not painfully so, in that delicate, motherly way that only she could. There are people in our lives who love us enough to "put up" with us, good or bad, angelic or mischievous. People who we often don't appreciate as we should, but know that we couldn't possibly function without. People who may let us down at times, but will never leave us. That is mom. That is my mom. I look at a photograph taken last week. There she is, sandwiched between me and my brothers, smiling proudly despite the fact that she is surrounded by our goofy faces and "rabbit ears" held up behind her head. All she asked for was a picture of her and her kids after all. Well, this was it! This was us. Happy, enjoying a moment of carelessness, although definitely not carefree. We've had our share of struggles after all. But for a moment, it was all good.

A dad, my dad, has been absent for most of my life. I don't know why. I've never understood. He left when I was 9. He said he was taking some time to make things better for himself so that he could make a better life for us. That was 10 years ago, and even though I've missed his presence through the years, I think that's exactly what he did. Who would've guessed that "better life" wouldn't include him?

People have often felt sorry for me growing up. "Poor little girl without a daddy," they'd say. I used to dread the "donuts with dad" and the father/daughter banquets. These were occasions which only served to shine a spotlight on my fatherless existence. Occasions I would seldom attend. I must admit, in the early days I probably joined in on the pity party, felt sorry for myself, for my brothers, for my mom. How could he have left us like this? What was so much better out there that he couldn't stand to be around us? I didn't understand. To this day, I don't understand. But I've learned to accept it for what it is -- an unfortunate circumstance, but one from which I would grow into the person I am today. A person who has strength even in hard times, a special closeness and love for my brothers and mom that I may not have otherwise had.

My life without a dad. My life has been filled with ups and downs, happiness and sadness, good times, bad times and all that's in between. Dad is a person who I do not know. Someone who stopped making courtesy birthday phone calls 7 years ago and who knows nothing about my friends, my hobbies, let alone what clothes I'm going to wear. I'd like to think of him with happy thoughts, but truthfully I am emotionally lacking in that area. So for now, I'll save the happy thoughts for mom who has never left me, always loved me, and defined the meaning of the word through her example. Mom -- my mom.