When Dad Leaves: Coming to Terms with a Dead-Beat Parent

I never realized that I was supposed to have a daddy. I grew up with my mom and her boyfriends at the time, but not a father. I knew who my father was, he had made appearances here and there (my parents divorced before I was two, but not before they produced two other children during their destructive union), but he was never a daily thought or part of my life, or my sisters. It wasn't until I was older and really needed him that I found out what the No-Daddy Blues was really all about.

While most folks would say their childhood was far from normal, I know for a fact that mine was not normal 95% of the time. My mom, for all of her faults, did what she thought was the best for us, but most of the time it turned into what the worst for everyone. She has what I would call an inability to sustain a healthy relationship, even when the guy is semi-unretarded. My sisters and I pretty much just stood back and watched the carnage accumulate. My mom is single today, and war-weary to boot. Life was never easy for her, and it continues to be difficult, even though most of her children are grown. But the story is not about her, she who did not run off and leave, although we may have done better without her at times, but this is about him, the guy who didn't even stick around to see how it ended.

When I was 16, I left my mom's home to live with a friend. I was chubby when I left, and not so much later on. While some complimented my new looks, I wondered if I would eat tomorrow. When my sisters ended up in a group home, my mom off in her own land, I wondered how I could save them. At least they were together. We all felt the No-Daddy Blues, but knew that a better day was just around the corner. But when another foster kid tried to kill one of my sisters one night, I truly began to wonder, "Where the hell is our Dad?"

Dad was a busy man. According to Grandma, who made him the man he is today, my mom drove him away, he had no choice, and he had to stay far from us girls. She does not, however, mention the fact that he is an alcoholic, a wife-beater, and a habitual liar. The sun shines on her boy, a fact she maintains to this day. We let her, as she is too old to accept the truth. But we know better. When my sister was homeless, we all looked for him. Grandma said he would be there when we needed him, but where was he? When my other sister got pregnant to a loser, where was he? When my college dreams went up in smoke, where was he? Dear old Dad was busy touring the world, working when and where he felt like (you know there was no child support in this story, right?), too self-absorbed to find out if his children were suffering. But would there ever be a reckoning?

You know there was. Once my sisters and I were old enough to not sue for child support, guess who comes knocking, wanting to rekindle a relationship? Yep, it was his turn now folks! Apparently, letting us stupidly pour our hopes and hearts out was just what Dad needed to fool us into a false relationship. You see, as long as we did not ask where he had been, all was right. He got to strut around with his new wife, telling lies about how he was Father-of-The-Year, but never could you ask about the real truth, the sadness we all carried.

And when we did, the real Dad reared its ugly head. The truth was not for him, and as long as he could hang up his phone, then he could continue his lies. Profanities are all you can get from him, and more lies. I think I like my original Blues a lot better.

I used to think that as long as there was that dream of a father that would be enough. He would be our shining star, a place to land when the world was too tough. But that is not the real world. In the real world, you have to make yourself strong enough to survive, and you must make the choice to surround yourself with those who are supportive, not destructive. And by acknowledging your issues, you free yourself from the stranglehold of pain in your life and in other relationships.

What is the moral of this story? I really don't know, but I have learned a few things from these experiences. Men: love your children, and respect their moms, because your kids will need you, especially your daughters. Never underestimate the healing power of a father's hug. Daughters: you know how special you are, whether you hear it every day or not. It is up to you to rise above all obstacles, because it really is true, the best revenge is living well. Don't let your parents define who you are; they only define where you come from.

Today, I am a married mom. I have a husband who loves me, and accepts the baggage I brought into this, yet encourages and inspires me with his loving kindness to me, my daughter, and others. Another sister is a married military woman, and my best friend. Another is a single mom of two, a sweet soul, and trying her best to make it alone. But while we all sing our own life song, we still sing the No-Daddy Blues together. That is a lifelong club, a truth that bonds us forever. Because even when you clear the air, the dust will settle, and in the same places.