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26/7/05
7:50 pm
Page 87
Drum: WOMAN 2 MAN 87
now reduced to lying to his eldest child. He looked
close to tears and I tried to make him feel less
embarrassed by pretending I wanted a better one
anyway, that his desperation had not scared me and
made me rethink my childhood assertion that my
father would always keep me safe. How could he do
that when he was the one I needed protection from?
Somewhere in the dark abyss, my father had the
strength to kick a habit that would kill him if he
continued. He only had to look within his circle of
(dwindling) friends to see how the story would end
if he kept travelling the path he was on. My father has
been clean for over a decade now, but his relationship
with his children, especially with me has never
recovered.
I knew that the way back to a semblance of a
relationship would mean I would have to make the
first painful moves. Granted, my mother had done
an exceptional job never speaking ill of the man who
I’m sure broke her heart when he left, but try as
they may, too many of our strong women end up
performing dual roles. Not because they constantly
want to prove just how well they can multi-task by
being both mother and father but because that’s the
hand they were dealt and they just got on with the
job of raising the next generation as best they could.
It was a simple call to tell my dad I was coming to
Jamaica that would open the lines of communication
once more. As well as not being back to the land of
my birth for over a decade, I had not seen my
“ I had not forgiven everything that happened but I was not going to hang a man
on old evidence.“
I was proud to be a daddy’s girl. He taught me how to
spell e-n-c-y-l-o-p-e-d-i-a when I was about seven
years old so the memories are not wholly framed by
what would later transpire between us, but ambivalent
thoughts take the place of what could have been
something more positive. How do you relate to the
man who has had no real input in your life for at least
half of it? There was even a period in the late Nineties
when I had not even spoken to my father for the better
part of four years. I didn’t call him to check up on him
and he returned the favour.
We would communicate through my siblings. Happy
birthday. Merry Christmas. Yes, I graduated from
university. I’ll try and send pictures. It was not much
but it worked. It was better than the alternative,
totally disengaging myself from my father; mentally
erasing him from my life. I never even realised I had
so many unresolved feelings about our relationship
until I witnessed my boyfriend’s interaction with his
own father. Here was a man that could not do enough
to make his kids happy. He’d walk on water if his son
would be impressed. I missed that.
father’s face for that long. I had never admitted to
myself just how hurt I was not growing up with my
father. When I had moments where I was vitriolic
and bitter, my father was always the villain of the
piece. No more.
I would go to the man who had disappointed me for
too long with an open heart and an open mind. I had
not forgiven everything that happened but I was not
going to hang a man on old evidence. Not everyone
will have a second chance at building something real
and tangible with their absent parent but I was at least
going to try. Whatever his faults, I would want my
future children to know their grandfather even though
an ocean would separate them. I want my father to
know the new me. A grown woman with issues of
her own who still wants to call somebody ‘daddy’
and not choke on the word.
This summer I introduced the man I’m going to
marry to my father. I have never told my father how
much his approval of my future husband meant to
me. One small step at a time for both of us, we still
have fences to mend but at least we’ve started. How
many of you can say the same?