He called my phone the day before, and since i don't pick up unfamiliar numbers, he left a voicemail that started off like this:
"Hi Shirleen. It's um.. *pause*.. it's your daddy..."
I was floored. How many times did i replay that message? My mom was in the kitchen, and i told her right away. I had her listen to it. Just like me, she needed to hear it again. My brother was at work, but i called and told him, then i forwarded him the message. I didn't even recognize the voice, but my mom did, so i believed it was him. I heard the hope and intent in his voice in wanting to see us. He was only in town until the day after Christmas, I guess before he disappears again.I didnt call him back that day. What was i to do?? I havent seen or spoken to my father since i was 7, when he left us a broken family. Mom had wanted nothing to do with him. She got full custody, changed our number a few times, kept my brother and i from our dad's side of the family.. and he got the hint. But now it seems Time has once again found a way to change things. It all started this past April, when my cousin from my dad's side came up to NY and reunited with me and my brother after 19 years of no contact. She previously found me on MySpace and we reconnected. I'm sure it was her who gave my number to my dad.
I kept it in the back of my head the whole day. I made myself busy wrapping presents and planning Christmas Eve. But at the end of the day, when i finally got in bed, the quiet darkness opened the flood gates of my thoughts, and the tears that i've held back finally made their way out. How could i face this man i hardly know anymore, who wronged his family, and still acknowledge him as my father? I was scared and confused. so i prayed and got my answer. it was simple. See him. Forgive him. Make peace. I believe it was Alexander Pope who coined the famous phrase, "To err is human, but to forgive is divine." To sin is human. The ever-present question arose: WWJD? It was simple: reach out, forgive, and make peace. God is so good.
The next morning, Christmas Day, it hurt to open my eyes. The tears had burned and dried them. I hesitated for a moment as i held my phone. But then i felt a rush of courage, dialed that unfamiliar number, and waited to hear that unfamiliar voice. It was an awkward 2 minutes. I would meet him for lunch. Over the years, i used to imagine how i would act if i ever saw my dad again. I imagined myself crying to his face, yelling, hitting, kicking, and screaming. I harbored hateful and bitter feelings. I blamed him for all my relationships with past boyfriends that ended badly. I made him the reason why they couldn't work out. I became bitter seeing how tirelessly and endlessly my mom worked. I hated him for leaving my brother to grow up without a male hero. But most of all i hated him for never going to be able to walk me down that aisle, ever.
But when i saw him, i surprised myself with my own strength. In that small restaurant, we talked as adults, yet knowing we couldn't go into detail over the past 19 years. I showed him the young lady his daughter grew up to be. I told him about his son who matured so fast and so well since he became man of the house at the age of 9. I told him about our mom who worked so hard and who single-handedly put us through Catholic grade schools, Catholic high schools, state universities, and seeing to it we that we now both have stable, successful careers... and he concluded that she did a swell job of raising us.
*And finally after all these years, i felt closure and peace.*
A couple months back, i made plans to fly to Savannah, GA in January and reunite with his side of the family. He told me he'd willingly drive the 12 hours to meet me there. And i thought: He's only my biological father, and that's how i'll acknowledge him. I dont hate him anymore, but I don't wish to rekindle our lost relationship and bring him back fully into my life. Besides, i've lived all these years and i've managed without a father.
Lunch lasted an hour and a half.
His parting words were, "See you in Savannah, my darling."
...See you in Savannah, dad.
