Daddles

I know you don’t get it.  We settled that a long time ago.  That night in the banal, suburban resturant where the waitress hovered nervously as I sobbed into the linen and you asked me what I needed a father for anyway.

I don’t want so much any more.  I don’t pine. But it’s still surprising to me.  How disconnected you are from this role you have.  Father.  One part biology (eyes, nose, laugh; all yours), one part psychology (pass me the textbook, baby, I’m in it!), one part the revolving mystery of parenthood (teacher, comforter, protector).   

And there’s a part of me that knows.  Your own was lacking.  Removed.  Selfish.  My fagile, shy heart so ready to forgive, to understand.  But instead I must be hard.  Must be grown up.  Must be careful what I wish for.  I wonder if this uneasy truce we’ve reached will ever deepen, resolve, heal.  I miss you.  I still wish…

So dad, when I call, try a little harder, ok?  To let me know you’re glad I called.  To let me know you where wondering if I would.  That this tacky thing called “Father’s Day” registers with you.  That it resonates in a part of you that calls itself Pa.

I love you.

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27 thoughts on “Daddles

  1. morticia says:

    awesome stuff… transparent and brave.

  2. dex says:

    Eina, Dolce. Life, hey?

  3. vapour says:

    Ja Dolce, perhaps we never are the sons, daughters, father and wives we wanted to be.

  4. Dolce says:

    Thanks.

    And ja, it hurts. Try not to let it. But it does.

    So, Dex. That’s why the good dads’ get my two thumbs up. You’re making up for the ones that didn’t quite get it. Ok?

  5. dex says:

    Okay Dolce. I’ll keep doing my best – promise.

  6. kyknoord says:

    Expectations are strange and terrible things, aren’t they?

  7. Dolce says:

    yeah, Vaps. I can kinda see that I’m maybe not really the child he imagined either. And he’s the only dad I’ve got. So I’m getting ok with what he is. Just sometimes wish there was a little more to that.

  8. Dolce says:

    Kyk. Those expectations weren’t much to begin with. The deep hurt isn’t mine, strangely and sadly, it’s his. He’s so buried by his own stuff with his dad, I think he’s subconsciously chosen to be removed from my life so that he doesn’t repeat those mistakes. And so the circle continues.

  9. Dolce says:

    Dex. Something tells me you don’t have to try too hard. You kind ooze good dad.

  10. vapour says:

    Ja dex sometimes I think my dad was a great example. I sort of knew exactly what not to do…it’s a start

  11. Ramon says:

    Dad’s hey, Dolce – even after walking out on us 25 years ago, and even though our relationship has been superglued with beer and steak, I still don’t know why. He had tried, once, when he got maried for the second time, to tell me, but I ran away and hid in the vineyards – I think it still bugs him, I see it in his eyes, and I feel sorry for him – whatever it was, I’m sure it happened for a reason. Well, that’s my side of the story. I told you this and the whole world because your post evoked a feeling, a feeling I haven’t felt for a long time.
    Thanks.
    I think I’ll phone the tart later tonight.

  12. Dolce says:

    Thanks, R! Steak and beer, superglue. Yup, sounds about right. Phone him. Makes me realise that it doesn’t matter how much I think I’m ok, there’s still a little crack left open, just in case. It makes me a little angry and a little sad and a little bitter. Don’t know if that crack makes me stupid, vulnerable or more human.

  13. Ramon says:

    Human, Dolce. Human.

  14. dex says:

    I agree with Ramon, Dolce.

    Our cracks are what makes us human.

    erm. sorry couldn’t resist.

  15. Dolce says:

    HA! Yes, I was about to reply and wonder if that was a compliment or a bitter criticism, coming from our man of the sicko mind!

    As a friend of mine once notoriously said *”Show us your crack”

    It’s been a matter of much shouting in public places ever since.

    Words to live by, my friends.

    *(when fighting over the ownship of a cracked ashtray)

  16. Ramon says:

    You lot are sharp tonight!
    I meant it in the sincere way, honestly.
    Talk about Cry Wolf.
    Jeeeeezuz.

  17. Dolce says:

    No no, Ramona. I know you were being sincere. And I really appreciate it. Really. Just this cut me close, and I jumped on Dex’s sweet attempt to lighten it up a little.

    I’m not good at dealing with this stuff. I’d rather fuck off (into my version of the vineyards, if you will). So that was a little run. Not cry wolf. Just a cry baby.

  18. k chasu says:

    interesting post dolce. took me a long time to make peace with having the mother i do. by that i mean nearly 38 years. dad and i are like peas in a pod. but there ain’t no such thing as a disney-family.

  19. Dolce says:

    Hey KC. Sure. Agree totally. At least my dad wasn’t a beater or a fiddler. It’s all relative.

    That old larkin springs eternally to mind

    “They fuck you up, your mum and dad
    They may not mean to, but they do”

  20. I feel your pain, but in a slightly different way. I called to say Happy Father’s Day but all I got was heaven’s answering machine.

  21. Dolce says:

    Eesh. Sorry Ex-GW. Once again this place makes me grateful for what I was bitchin’ about.

    Thanks.

  22. garym says:

    Geez Dolce …..

    Well, well, well (three holes in the ground) …..

    How did you turn out to be so cool then?

  23. arbchick says:

    Dolce darl – sorry. That stinks. Sounds like my cousin’s situation…….a bloody shame really.

  24. Siyabonga says:

    I guess it comes with the fact that no human is perfect and we all have ‘cracks’.Guess the best thiung that one can do is to try to be the best you can be and hope for the best.I used to hate that my dad wasnt perfect.Now that Im older I’ve realised that he also was fighting his demons, maybe his demons were stronger than him…

  25. “And ja, it hurts. Try not to let it. But it does”

    Apparently you’re meant to let it hurt. And to get angry with him, even if he was great 90% of the time. That’s the only way to really end up understanding him. And accepting his fallible parts. Even if those do or don’t completely overwhelm his good bits.

    Hugs to you as you figure it all out! I’m trying to do a similar thing on my side.

  26. Dolce says:

    Gazza Thanks! I’ve got a very cool mum. That helps.

    Arb Ag. I know I have to pursue this relationship. And we’ve made pretty good progress. It’s just that sometimes I’m that little girl again. Who just wants her daddy to say he’s proud of her. That he loves her.

    Siyabonga Absolutely! And I often wonder how I’m going to end up stuffing up my kids (if I have any one day). I know that we’re all dealing with something. No matter where we come from, what we do or how good a family life we had. But, like I said to arb, that doesn’t stop me feeling like a little girl again sometimes, who just wants her daddy.

    Champers thanks. That’s what I’m realising. That the hurt changes you. And how it changes you is what matters. You either grow. Or you don’t. As the buddists say, we choose our teachers. The only thing asked of us, is that we’re open to the lesson.

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