Let's Talk, Shall We?

Today would have been my father's birthday if he hadn't taken his own life years ago. While I am no longer angry at him for denying me the possiblility of reconciliation, I am rather put off at the mess he left behind. The mess being me.

I have struggled with the possiblility that my father didn't like me very much both as a child and later as a young adult for most of my life. Now that this possibility has been confirmed to me in countless ways by various people, all that information really does is strengthen my resolve to be a better person. I spent many years wondering why he didn't like me only to find out that it due to my gender. The idea that if I had been born a male he might have accepted me just breaks my heart and at this point in my life I really don't need that kind of grief. I have a different way of looking at it.

I was a straight-A student in school because my father thought I was stupid. I went out of my way to show him that although I am a girl, I am his girl and was different. I didn't get into trouble like some of the girls in my school. I studied the television shows he watched, read the same books he did (when he wasn't looking because they were too 'old' for me), searching for a way to connect with him and was finally rewarded one evening with an invitation to sit with him and watch one of his favourite shows.

He is the main reason I am so stubborn. I went out of my way to show him that I am smart, talented, and worthy of his love. I am convinced that he loved me and just was not strong enough to show it. When he died and Iwent up to the house to begin taking care of things, I came across something that he had locked away in his strong box: a tiny glass bottle tied with a pink ribbon that contained my baby teeth. I held that bottle for hours, sobbing. I cried not only because he was gone, but because when I should have pushed him I didn't and I let our relationship go.

My father was a lot of things to a great many people. He taught me a great deal about a lot of different things; things that I didn't even know I had learned until I pulled the information out of my memory when I needed it. Perhaps he could have gone about things differently in terms of his treatment of me however the end result is something I know he would be proud of. How could he not be proud of me? I have his eyes, and they are fantastic.