And the answer is?

So, today I'm feeling blah. As I sit here, my house is filthy, Christmas decorations are still up....all of them, including the ones that I don't necessarily like. So there's guilt #1. Yet, I continue to sit here. I think today we will probably take down the stuff on the outside of the house. The stuff people can SEE. That way, unless someone looks really closely, we look like we're on the ball....doing the right thing......keeping up appearances. That's important, you know.... appearances. Ugh.

Which leads me to my next bit of guilt for today. Today is Sunday. I'm not in church, nor have I been today. In fact, we haven't been regularly in a long, long time. And I really like church. I was raised in a church.....we were there every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, choir practice.....and any other function on a weekly basis at my church. Then, as a teen....we slowed down....and eventually pretty much stopped. I would like to start going again regularly. I have been saying this for years. Then, Sunday morning comes, and I don't want to get up. I'm tired. My husband travels, and is always home on Sundays, so I say this is the reason. He's tired....he's been traveling.....let's rest today. But what's the real reason? I would say it comes down to laziness. Which brings me back to paragraph 1, and the Christmas decorations still being up. Pure laziness. Can you go to hell for laziness? I hope not.

And then, there's another piece of guilt. It's huge, and it encompasses a lot of my emotional time and thoughts. Not the "guilt" part, but the problem in general. My biggest and most heavy problem in my life (when I allow it to creep in) is my relationship or lack thereof with my "dad". My parents divorced when I was 13. A horrible time to go through a divorce, though I'm not sure there is EVER a GOOD time. Me and my "dad" were never really close. But the divorce made us even less so. I can remember sitting in the kitchen prior to my parents splitting up.....we were all there....and my mom said... as a general question to me and my dad...."how will you feel if we get divorced"? And my answer.....as well as my "dad's".....was....."It doesn't matter....I don't care". And I didn't. My day-to-day life didn't change one bit after their divorce. It was always me and my mom, and that's the way it stayed. Sad to think back, though, that 2 out of the 3 people in a family "didn't care" if they split up.

So, for the next 5 years, I saw my dad very sporadically, and the only time I did see him was when he would be going to my grandmother's house to eat, or for Christmas. He started dating right away after the divorce. How did I find this out? One day when he was picking me up to go to my grandmother's for one of our "family" get-togethers.....we took a detour and pulled up at a strange house that I had never seen. Not a word was said, but a woman came out, and got in the car. Of course I had to get in the backseat to let this woman sit up-front with my dad. I had no idea who she was. But apparently, she was someone who knew my dad, because she kept holding his hand. Every once in awhile, she would turn around and say something lame like "you have great skin, just like one of my daughter's". Whatever. She was a liar; I had terrible skin. She was now untrustworthy.

My dad never explained who this was. She was just "a lady" that he was seeing. And then, out of nowhere, the very next Christmas, my "dad" and his "lady" decided that I could no longer go to my grandmother's on Christmas and open my gifts like every other year. No....I was now expected to go to the "lady's" house and open my gifts there. Well, I was having none of it. I sat there, never spoke a word, opened my gifts, and then announced I would like to be taken home. And I was taken home. And that was probably the last Christmas that was really spent with my dad.....and that was age 15. After that, I refused to have anything to do with "their" get togethers. Fast forward 30 years. I'm still not going to their get togethers. I never went when I was single; I think me and my husband may have gone ONCE after we got married, and when I had my daughter, we went one time in 18 years. ----Oh, there is a lot of history, trust me. The 13- year old girl tried to give the "lady" a chance. I attempted to be nice to her. But she would do crazy things, like call our house (me and my mom's house) and ask to speak to my dad (if he was visiting for any reason)....Another time, when I had a serious operation at age 15, she called my hospital room the day of the surgery.....asked to speak to my dad.....then hung up when he answered. She was a crazy woman, and she still is. Lots and lots of history and proof that she's crazy. But I digress.....I'm talking about my dad here. Where was HE when all this history was taking place? Oh, he was building his antique cars, buying other people's kids cookies, giving boys from church his pocket knife, and enjoying his "new" family.

In the 31 years since my parents divorced, my dad has remembered my birthday about 8 times. He has remembered my daughter's birthday.....never. Maybe one time, when she was 1. Maybe. He has hardly ever sent her a Christmas present. He, himself, has NEVER called to invite us over, or to try and see Katie at all. He has always had this "lady" do it, and I have always refused. I told him many times that I never wanted to talk to her on the phone, that if he wanted to talk to me or Katie, that I wanted HIM to call......not HER. But it really never happened. Until this year. My dad has diabetes. He has had it for about 35 years or so. He has never taken care of himself. Just last year, he had one leg removed. This year, his other one will be removed. In August, he told me he wanted to see my daughter "before he died". This was a strange phone call to receive. I told him ok..... But then, things got hectic, and before I knew it, it was time for school. The day before school started, his wife called and just told me she was bringing my dad to see us the next day. I said "no". My kid had a huge project that was due the first day of school, and she hadn't even started it. She had 1 day to do it. It was the worst time ever for a visitor. I would've told the Pope he couldn't come that day either. -----so here I sit. I have talked to my "dad" about 3 or 4 times since August. His health is terrible. He's been inconsiderate, to say the least, over the past 35 years. The emotional pain he has inflicted upon me because of being ignored by him, is immeasurable. It tortures me to this day. Why doesn't my own father care enough about me to be a part of my life? Why has he not even bothered to get to know his only grandchild? And WHY, OH WHY do I feel guilty about not going to see him in the hospital? Why can't I let this go?

They say a parent's job is never done. Who knew my dad's job was emotional torture? He seemed like a nice enough guy. Perhaps I need to seek counsel for this problem. How many counseling sessions would one have to attend to find out why a father would not love his child? How much money would it cost me to find out? OH, where is that tootsie pop owl when you need him? He could figure it out, I'm sure.