This November will mark 2 years since I’ve spoken to my father. He’s not dead (at least, not that I know of) but he just doesn’t feel as if I’m an important part of his life anymore.
And I miss him. I miss the good guy he could be. My dad has his fair share of bad qualities. He’s a gambler and he let it overtake his life and destroy his marriage and his life. He’s an alcoholic. He cannot hold a steady job. He thinks he’s always right and constantly berates those who don’t agree with him. And he’s been in and out of jail for most of my life.
But when you take all of that away, he’s an amazing good guy. He has the best sense of humor. He is so friendly and can strike up a conversation with anyone. And he’s so much fun to watch sports with.
Picture Chris Farley. Take away about 100 pounds. Add thinning dark brown hair. You’ve got my father. And he has Chris Farley’s sense of humor to a tee. And I definitely inherited his sense of humor. On a weekly basis, my mom tells me after I make a funny face or say something witty, “Wow. That was your dad right there.” It makes me miss him even more.
Both my brother and I are sick of my dad. He has spent way too much time taking from us and never giving us anything. He promised us so many things and never followed through. He never supported my brother and I once in our life. I decided I would test my dad after my birthday in 2006. I was going to wait for him to call me. I wasn’t going to call him first. And I’m still waiting.
But if he called me tonight and told me he was sorry, I think I would forgive him. It would be tough and I would make him work for it. But I’d forgive him. I want him back in my life. The good dad. The man I waited with at amusement parks as my brother and my mom rode the rollercoasters, who entertained me to no end. The man who could always make me crack a smile, even when I was in the worst mood. The man I curled up against as we watched movie after movie, knowing, without a doubt, that he would keep me safe.