I didn’t call my Dad on Father’s Day. I haven’t called him in months, in fact. My Mom tells me “his feelings were hurt”, but that is most likely a fabrication made by my Mom in an attempt to pretend things are normal. I’m sure my Dad thinks I should have called him. He is one self entitled bastard – he probably thinks I owe him 10% of my paycheck too.
The funny thing is he hasn’t called me, well, ever. When I moved into my house from a three story walk up he stood me up after promising to help me move. I’m not bitter though – I’m emotionless about the entire situation. In fact, sometimes I wish I could wash my hands of the entire situation and stop pretending we are supposed to do these things – like call on Father’s Day.
Okay – I’ll be honest. I’m not totally emotionless. I have a mixture of love for my Dad for being my Dad and disgust for how terrible a person he is. The worst part is he has not even the slightest idea that he is a piece of shit. I’m not being biased either. He really is a pretty terrible and selfish person.
He doesn’t support my Mom – leaves her to the Government, but is sure to take his fair share of the food stamps when the opportunity becomes advantageous. He didn’t call my mother nor come home on their 25th anniversary, yet expects a phone call of love and admiration on Father’s day. He shows up late for absolutely every event in his life – out of sheer selfishness and lack of concern for punctuality. He hoards, doesn’t work, breaks the law, and honestly believes he is a good person.
Ignore it and it will go away
The problem with having parents you would most like to forget is that you can’t. They keep reappearing like a case of herpes. I have two options. I can continue doing what I am doing and ignore them until I have no choice but to acknowledge their existence OR I can try to resolve my issues with them and make up.
For me, I have resolved my issues. I am comfortable with my detachment from them, but I know the truth. The truth is complete resolution is the only real option. I’m not saying we have to go to the park while my parents push me in a swing or bake pie together, but I have to get back on an even and healthy keel.
The hardest part is that I know I will be the one who has to change – they are incapable. They do not have the mental capacity. It will be me. I have to accept their flaws and move on from it. Let them do what they do, hold my nose to ignore the odor, and be content.
These things are easier said than done…