Venting A Little Bit

I have recently been in the feels about my dad, and I just thought it would help if I posted it.Chances are nobody will read this, so here we go.

When I was just 6 months old, my dad and my mom got a divorce. I'm not some attention seeker, I understand that happens quite often in this modern world, and I am not here to complain about it. After all, I would rather come from a broken home than live in one.

After the divorce me and my mom tried to move on with life. We moved back to her home town, a rural town in southwest Virginia, where we have lived since. My father was also from this town, but due to him moving all over the country and at all costs trying to avoid his own family, my mom never thought that she would see him again. When I was 2 years old, 2001, my mom was at one of her two jobs being a waitress for a local restaurant called the Country Club. (Not an actual country club) One night when I was at work with her we were getting ready to leave and we were getting into her car, and I was already strapped into my car-seat. I heard her start talking to someone, the man walked up to the car door and says "Hey there buddy, what're you up to?" I responded somehow (not sure as to how because this was over a decade ago) and then my mom got me out of the car-seat and continued talking to this man.

In the middle of their conversation I said "Mommy, who is your friend?", and then my mother abruptly put me back into the car. She talked to him for probably another 15 seconds after that, and got in the car and left. I still remember this part very vividly, my mom was crying in the front seat, and I asked her who he was again, and she said it was an old friend. As I'm sure you have assumed up until this point, it was indeed my father who we were talking to.

So after this incident, my 2-year old life went on as usual as I recall. Shortly afterward my mom started taking me to cookout's with people who I didn't know. I was used to this because I was 2 and I didn't know most of my mom's friends. But at all the cookouts my father started spending time with me, and after a while I started going to his house. Eventually he told me that he was my father, and I accepted it. (This next part was not to my knowledge) My mom went to court with my dad that summer due to him not paying child support, and after my mom won the court case, she made a deal with my dad, saying that if he wanted to be in my life, then she would drop the charges and he wouldn't have to pay the 20,000 dollars he owed on child support, or he could not be in my life and just stay out of it for good and he wouldn't have to pay it.

She made him pick one or the other, because she didn't want him come in and out and make my life chaos. So he said that he wanted to be a father to me, and that I was important to him. So after that I started going to his house every other weekend, and this went on for about a month, and he got a new girlfriend and took off to Myrtle Beach SC. Me being 3 at this time, I didn't understand why he left, I assumed that it was my fault somewhat, and I assumed that my mom didn't want me to go. So from age 3 to age 6 I didn't have any contact with my father. I did however maintain contact with his family.

I became especially close with my Grandfather, who was my dad's adopted father. I spent multiple days a week with him and we spent most days on their farm. But from age 3 to 6 I was only spending time with him and his family, I never actually saw my dad. One day my mom received a phone call from my dad saying that he wanted to see me and that it was a huge mistake, Etc. So my mom took me to see him again, this time at my grandparent's farm.

Once again he decided to be in my life, he took me to all of my tee-ball practices and tried to help me. But when it came time for my first game, I asked my mom to let me call dad to remind him when it was, and what do you know, he had left again. I was still 6 years old and I couldn't really comprehend why this had happened. I was especially mature, and I was realizing this wasn't my fault or my mother's fault. I didn't really blame my dad, I pretty much felt that it was just part of life and that I had to live with it.

He showed up and left a few more times over the next few years. He had another child, my brother named Ben. Me and Ben are close now because we have both been kind of abandoned. But neither here nor there, throughout the years, my mom had tried to introduce me to father figures and I basically rejected them because my dad was around just enough for me to feel like he was my dad, but not enough to actually be my dad. So this kept my mom from being able to have a healthy relationship because I couldn't get along with her boyfriends. All of which were great people and I now wish I had accepted them. But regardless, when I was in 5th grade, I was 10 at the time, my grandfather on my mother's side who had been there for me just as much if not more, than my other grandparents, was diagnosed with lung cancer.

He only lived for 6 months after that. I was too young at the time to really comprehend the seriousness of death. It still affected me greatly, but not as much as it should. It devastated my mother, she was not the same for a long time after that, and to this day, I still notice her being different than she was before. Fast forward to my first months of middle-school. A hard time for most pre-teens, I was trying to fit in and my dad had resurfaced, and I was starting to enjoy life. In october of that year, my grandfather on my father's side, who had played a major father role in my life, died. At the same time, my father totally disappeared, this is still to this day one of the hardest times of my life. My mother was still emotionally numb from the loss of her father, and my father was absent, I had to grieve my grandfather without the help of anyone. His wife tried her best to console me, but she was so torn up herself (Which is totally understandable) that she was unable to help me through it.

I am not here for pity, I understand that plenty of people are much less fortunate than I am. But still it was hard, obviously. Also during this time, my mom met my current step father. He has 3 kids and a very prejudice family, they all treated me and my moms other son griffin, like we were outsiders. So here I am an 11 year old boy, with no father, two of the most important people in my life had died within two years of eachother. My mom is focused on starting over with my step father. I was totally alone. One day I decided that I was unhappy with my life and would do anything to make it better. I wanted happiness more than I wanted anything else. It took all of my strength to repress my feelings toward my father and step family, and to look towards the horizon and work for it. As soon as I start paving the way to happiness, my father pops back up into my life. But instead of the usual, I got a strange call on Christmas, and he told me about how much he regretted leaving me, and that he got me a present and that he felt I deserved it. This was and still is, the only present he has ever gotten me. It was a dirt bike, and I loved it so much. He actually stayed in my life for a few months this time. He bought a house near me, and things started looking up.

Then one day, in ordinary fashion, "poof" gone! Just like that, he was gone and so was the only present he had ever gotten me. This hit me pretty hard, but at the same time, I had put up an emotional shield. Towards my family, towards everyone. My grandmother had still not gotten over the death of my grandfather, and my mom was still with my step father, and I was right back where I started. I trudged my way through eighth grade, started my freshman year in highschool. I was looking forward to high-school, I looked at it as a new start. I started making new friends, and I started to talk to girls, and I was happy. Then one morning, I was in the cafeteria and I was joking with a group of friends and it got a little out of hand. I ended up getting beat up and humiliated in front of the entire high-school, for something that wasn't even fight-worthy. I ended up going to court for the fight because the kid who beat me up wanted to add insult to injury, then I got 50 hours of community service for instigating a fight. After this, I had an appendicitis and almost died. I had no will to live. One day I receive yet another call from my father, claiming the same old stuff, blah blah blah. So I fell back into the trap again, I started seeing him again, and it went well for about 4 months, and then what do you know, he was gone. I haven't talked to him for months now. And I was thinking earlier about it, and I realized that he has never once told me that he loved me. That's why I decided to write this. Like I said, nobody will read this, and I'm not doing this for attention, I just want to speak my feelings. Thanks for reading.

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