Letting Go

I have often on this blog alluded to the fact that I have some daddy issues. Without boring everyone with the details (and revealing the juicy bits that I'd love to have published in essay form at some point), my father is the most selfish, hypocritical, verbally abusive, manipulative person I have ever met. Still, for so long I wanted him in my life. Not as he is, of course, but as the father I thought he should be. That I deserved.

But after counseling and so much support from my husband, I realized he is who he is and I'm better off without his toxicity. Thus, we haven't spoken more than a sentence or two to each other at graduations or other forced encounters in at least five years. Old feelings bubbled up when Tim and I were referred Nigel back in May. Although my paternal grandparents had their faults, they were such a strong part of my life. They taught me things neither my parents nor my maternal grandparents ever could. And I wanted that for Nigel. I want him to learn from my father's good qualities (he does have a few). And as Nigel's family structure is already unique, I didn't want to toss a cut-off grandparent into the mix.

So, after much discussion with Tim and my oh so supportive brother George (I call him Dr. Phil on these occasions), I mailed my father an announcement of Nigel's adoption. I had hoped that would spark some fatherly and grandfatherly emotions. But no. His response was a card. A hypocritical religious card that simply read: "I applaud and commend you for this act of love. Let me know how I may be of help." I dissected the card immediately. Unlike him, I don't need or want a pat on the back for Nigel. He is my son, and that is that. Unlike him, I have no hidden motives for my actions. And to imply that I was merely seeking money from his stingy hands is insulting. (And to boot, I later found out that someone had actually told my dad about Nigel back in May.)

Yet, I couldn't let it go. As my brother pointed out, I had tried to rekindle things with a simple card, so maybe further correspondence and explanation was needed. I took the chicken route and sent an e-mail, explaining that I didn't need anything from him. I was willing to move past my anger and allow him to be part of Nigel's life if he wanted. His response? He had no idea I was angry with him for the past five year, but yet simply busy, which is absolute BS! Still no mention of an apology or a desire to be a grandfather.

So I think that exchange will be the final nail in the coffin. What would Nigel have really gained from this toxic relationship, I've had to ask myself. Each potential positive experience I conjur up is matched tenfold by an inevitable scarring one. I will tell Nigel about my father if he asks, explaining as kindly as I can why he's not part of his life. But he will be surrounded by so many other strong male role models - Tim, my brothers, his "godfather," his two other grandfathers - that I doubt he'll notice the void. - Sarah