October 16th 2024.
"Please, Dad, don't say this," I begged, tears streaming down my face. It had been years since I had spoken to my father, and now he was on the phone with my husband, Jack, asking for my children's full names to put in his will.
Jack whispered to me, "It's your dad." I was in shock. It was 2022, and the last time I had spoken to my father was in 2011.
Tentatively, I put the phone to my ear as my dad updated me on his life. He was in his late 70s, had a girlfriend, broke his leg, and still missed my mom, who had passed away 11 years ago.
As soon as I hung up, I was stunned. It was hard to believe that we had left things on such bad terms over a decade ago.
Growing up in the 70s, my dad worked shifts while my mom stayed at home to take care of me and my younger brother, Jeffrey. However, her version of "care" involved a lot of screaming, hitting, and ignoring.
Looking back, I don't think she enjoyed being a mother. I still vividly remember the time she pulled my hair, spat at me, and called me hurtful names for no reason.
Unfortunately, my dad wasn't much better. He would come home from work and, based on what my mom had told him, would physically punish us with a cane or slipper.
The emotional abuse continued well into our teenage years, but my brother and I had each other. We were never allowed to have friends over, so we became each other's best friends.
However, as we got older, we started to drift apart. I think we both wanted to move on from the trauma of our childhood.
By the time I was married with children of my own, my relationship with my parents was strained. My kids didn't enjoy spending time with them, and my mother would often put me down in front of them.
Then, out of nowhere, my mom got gravely ill and passed away. It was a mix of sadness and relief for me. My dad was devastated.
The funeral was a positive affair, focusing on my mom's friends and hobbies. But after that, my brother and I lost all contact. We drifted further apart, and I felt like there was no going back.
My relationship with my dad remained tumultuous. We tried to see him once a month, but he was often moody and unhappy. Sometimes, he would even slam the phone down when I called to check in on him.
Then, in 2011, we had a falling out. My dad sent my daughter a birthday card, and she wrote a thank you note instead of calling. That's when my dad told me he no longer wanted me in his life.
I was heartbroken and pleaded with him, but his mind was made up. We didn't speak for years.
Eventually, I sought help through counseling and was able to heal from the trauma of my past. But then, in 2022, my dad called again, asking for my children's names for his will.
We agreed to meet for the first time in over a decade, and it was emotional. We exchanged stories, and he met his adult grandchildren for the first time. He never mentioned the past, and he has been nothing but kind to my kids.
But he has never apologized or explained his outburst in 2011. And although he has expressed sadness about my relationship with my brother, he has never tried to fix it.
However, when my dad fell and broke his hip last year, I ran into my brother at the hospital. We ended up meeting for breakfast and had a long conversation about our childhood and our own families.
Since then, we have reconnected and become close again. As for my dad, he can still be toxic at times, but it doesn't affect me like it used to.
I am just grateful to have my family back in my life. Our family may not be perfect, but I am happy we are in touch. I never thought I would see my dad again, but I am glad he picked up that phone and called me.
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