My life for the most part is peaceful. Not quiet (ever)… but peaceful is good. I know that issues, whether money or relationships or whatever issues that come our way, that we will deal with them together. I have avoided having people that cause conflict or emotional unrest in my life.
But that doesn’t seem to work with my family. When I say family, I mean my parents and crazy brother seem to find a way to constantly discombobulate me. Last night I got an email from Rajiv (my middle brother), saying my dad is in town, and since my brother is working in Peterborough the week, he could drop off my dad for the day.
The day? That is a long time. My dad and I don’t talk. You can only talk about small stuff for a bit of time. Then what? He really is an odd man. I am realizing that his sperm is the only thing that connects us. Yet, he asked to see me.
This is part of my character that I hate many times… that pull to do the right thing, despite the consequences to myself.
It would be rude to say that I really don’t want to see him. Yet I don’t think I can do a whole day.
So, to avoid a confrontation with my brother (the one I am not speaking to), I have thought to go to Oshawa and met my dad for lunch there. What will come out of this? More than likely, more confusion. But hopefully nothing. I think that I am emotional done. Not mad, not glad, just done.
This is about my dad and me. Not my kids. I am sure he thinks that they will be there. But thankfully they have school. He lost the right to be their grandparent a very long time ago. Actually he literally threw that right out the door. A choice he made.
Last time when he was here, he met them. Awkward. The older kids were polite but didn’t know what to say to him. He didn’t talk very much to them. My youngest two were fine. They were themselves. Too young to understand the moment.
Why now? Why not when I cared or yearned for it? This is all 13 years too late. Unless he says sorry. Yet I know not to hold my breathe. This time I have no expectations rather simply feel a since of obligation.
Being with him is a bit scary. I am not sure what that fear is of… except maybe a fear of that uncomfortable silence that is so huge in his presence.
Whatever. I feel better having made the decision to go. I wish the drama would end somehow. For the past 10 or so years his silence and absence was easier to take than what feels now like scratches that mice make in a wall. You know that horrid sound. I can’t even stay in the same room as the scratching. I am so freaked out if it is going to make its way in my room or end up nibbling on me… erk!
This crazy analogy is the same with my dad. I am sure this “visit” is going to be the same as all the others. I leave with emptiness. But I suppose that there is always that teeny weeny chance that he may say he loves me. Or just sorry. Or something that will heal the lifelong wound.
But as I said, no expectations but rather simply fulfilling a sense of obligation. Funny, how much my dad can hurt me over and over, yet I hate the thought of hurting him, by saying no, I don’t want to see you.
Discombobulation. My life is feeling in a state of discombobulated. The move has my house upside down and crazy. School starts, routine and classes… all something to get used to again. It is a perfect time for family to add discombobulation to my life.
Can you tell I like the word… discombobulate?