December 18th 2024.
When I was 15 years old, I received some exciting news - I had been awarded a scholarship to attend a private school. Filled with pride and joy, I immediately shared the news with my dad via email, hoping for his congratulations and praise. But his response crushed me. He simply dismissed my achievement as opportunistic. Looking back now, I realize those words were a reflection of his own insecurities and narcissism. But at the time, all I wanted was to make him proud and feel loved and valued by him.
According to my mom, my dad wasn't always like this. In the beginning, he was a kind, funny, and compassionate man. But things changed when my mom became pregnant with me. He made it clear that he didn't want a child and stopped communicating with my mom entirely, just one month before I was born. As a result, it was mostly just my mom and me in the early years of my life, with my grandparents stepping in to help when they could. I didn't know any different and thought this was just how things were.
It wasn't until I started primary school that I realized I didn't have a father figure in my life. This became apparent when we were asked to make Father's Day cards and I had no one to give it to. So one evening, at the age of eight, I asked my mom about my dad. She explained that he had left us before I was born, but I still wanted to get to know him. It felt important to me. My mom was supportive and we immediately began searching for him, even though this was before the convenience of the internet.
After two years of searching, my mom finally found someone who was able to track down my dad's sister in Lagos, Nigeria. From there, we were able to get in touch with his other sister who lived in London, just a few miles away from us. She informed us that my dad had moved to the US and had slightly changed his surname, which made it more difficult to find him. After a year of pleading with my mom and my aunt, I finally got to speak with my dad for the first time on my 11th birthday in September 2001.
I was shocked to learn that he was surprised to hear from me and claimed he didn't even know I existed, even though my mom's parents had informed his parents about my birth. But I didn't confront him about it. Instead, I was just happy to finally have some form of communication with him. He promised to stay in touch and call regularly, which he did. Two months after our first phone call, I mustered up the courage to call him "Dad" for the first time, and he referred to me as his "Daughter". It was a dream come true and I finally felt like I had a missing piece of my identity.
In December 2001, just three months after our first phone call, my mom and I traveled to America to meet my dad in person. My mom paid for our flights and accommodation as a way to facilitate our reunion. When we arrived at the airport, my dad greeted us with open arms and tears in his eyes. He embraced me and my mom warmly, and I could tell he was genuinely happy to finally meet me. Although I was happy to finally have a physical connection with my dad, I didn't feel overwhelmed with emotions like he did. I just remember looking up at him and noticing our similar features - our noses, mouths, and skin complexion. He was warm, kind, and eager to get to know me.
From that moment on, we started to build a relationship. Although it wasn't always easy, I was grateful to have him in my life. However, our relationship was never the same as a typical father-daughter relationship. We had missed out on so many years together and it was hard to bridge that gap. But I am still grateful for the opportunity to know my dad and have him in my life. It's a reminder that family dynamics can be complicated, but at the end of the day, love and forgiveness can help heal even the most broken relationships.
When I was 15 years old, I had some exciting news to share with my dad. I had just received a scholarship to attend a private school and I couldn't wait to tell him about it. I sent him an email, hoping he would be proud of me and celebrate my accomplishment. Unfortunately, his response was not what I had hoped for. He dismissed my achievement and called me an opportunist, which broke my heart.
Looking back now, I can see that those words were spoken by a jealous and narcissistic man. But at the time, all I wanted was to please my father and make him see that I was a blessing in his life. I longed for his love, affection, and acceptance. My mother had told me that he used to be a kind, funny, and compassionate man before I was born. But everything changed when she became pregnant with me.
My father made it very clear that he did not want me. Just one month before my mother gave birth, he stopped communicating with her entirely. For the first part of my life, it was just my mother and I, with my grandparents taking care of me when they could. I didn't know any different and it was all I had ever known.
But as I got older and started school, I began to realize that I didn't have a father like my classmates did. When we were asked to make Father's Day cards, I didn't have anyone to give mine to. One evening, when I was eight years old, I asked my mother why I didn't have a father. She explained to me that he had walked out on us before I was born.
I remember feeling a strong desire to get to know my father. It felt like an important piece of my identity was missing. Thankfully, my mother was supportive and we started searching for him immediately. This was before the days of the internet, so it was a difficult task. But after two years, my mother was able to track down my father's eldest sister in Nigeria, who then connected us with her younger sister in London, just a few miles from where we lived.
It turned out that my father had moved to the U.S. and changed one letter in his surname, which made it even harder to find him. My aunt was hesitant to give us his contact information, but after a year of pleading with her, she finally gave in. And for my 11th birthday, I got my wish - I spoke to my father for the first time.
He seemed shocked to hear from me and claimed that he didn't even know I existed, even though my mother's parents had informed his parents about my birth. But I didn't confront him about it. He promised to keep in touch, and he did. Two months later, I called him "Dad" for the first time and he called me "Daughter". It was a dream come true and I finally felt like I belonged.
In December 2001, just three months after we first spoke, my mother and I traveled to America to meet my father in person. She paid for our flights and accommodation, and at the airport, my father embraced us with open arms. He was warm, friendly, and genuinely happy to see us. As he held me in his arms, he cried tears of joy. And although I was happy to finally meet him, I didn't feel as emotional as he did.
I remember looking up at him, taking in his average build, low hair cut, and seeing our similar facial features. I inherited my nose, mouth, and skin complexion from him. He was everything I had imagined and more - kind, loving, and eager to get to know me. It was a moment I had been waiting for my whole life and I finally felt whole.
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