Читать книгу Souls of My Young Sisters: - Dawn Marie Daniels - Страница 26

By Crissinda Ponder

Nearly eight years had passed by since the last time I saw him, and now I was on the way to see the man who still manages to call himself my father. He continuously failed to realize that being a father entails being more than a sperm donor. Despite his fear of my mother obtaining his personal information, he finally decided to disclose his place of residence to me when I called his cell one random day and declared that I was coming over.

Sharing his childhood with both parents and five siblings, he did not experience the effects of a broken home. He met my mother at age twenty-one. Although the two were unwed and unstable, I came along one pregnancy term later. Within the first year of my life, he left, never to return.

On that late December evening that I drove up the interstate to his apartment, a combination of thoughts raced through my mind, and all at once, I felt every emotion possible. There were so many things that I wanted to say to him, but I could never build up the courage to open my mouth. Although I did not see him regularly, I was still intimidated by his indifference and angered by his inconsideration.

I never understood why he did not want to be in my life or what I could have possibly done to make him run away. Though he was never there when I needed him in the past, now that I was a young adult, I had a glimpse of hope that persuaded me that things were going to be different. As I was approaching his residence, I was a bit excited about the reunion, but all the past emotional and mental wounds that he left behind were beginning to resurface.

Every time he tries to come back into my life, he always ends up neglecting me. I keep setting myself up to get hurt, I thought, while recalling all of the hurtful experiences. But I knew that since I now had a vehicle and could locate him on my own, I needed to take a chance.

I immediately felt out of place once I arrived at his apartment. I wanted to turn around and head for home, but my little sisters were with me (products of his former marriage to my stepmother). Though mindful of their presence, I could not help but feel alone.

My father married my stepmother when I was six years old, and she birthed my sisters, who are twins, the following year. My sisters had something that I never had the chance to experience: a complete institution of family that includes both mom and dad. Even though my father and stepmother were no longer together, I still experienced a sense of jealousy that sometimes prevented me from being the big sister that I have always wanted to be.

I was brought up by both my mother and grandmother, and I was always provided for in spite of a struggle. There was always something missing, however. The absence of my father often sparked anger, which influenced me to be bitter and mean to my loved ones. I would blame myself for him not being a part of my life, and label myself a bad child while my grades and performance in school reflected otherwise.

Walking through the threshold of his place seemed odd. No furniture. No decorations. An empty unit, representing the void he failed to fill in my life. While my sisters and I stood around and talked among ourselves, I saw him come out of his bedroom with a small box.

“Happy birthday and merry Christmas,” he said. “I was going to send it to you, but you’re here.”

Oh, whatever, I thought as I was handed the box.

The picture on the front of the box displayed an MP3 player, and as I opened the box to see the device, I was hoping a portion of the back child support he owed would be a part of the package.

“Um, thanks,” I said.

Apparently, my father was under the impression that an MP3 player would make up for several years of abandonment and heartbreak. I felt that he insulted my intelligence by giving me a “toy” to occupy my time with, so that I would suppress my resentment toward him.

Finding out that I had another younger sibling, age eight, further upset me. I was shocked to hear that when one of my sisters blurted it out on the trip over to my father’s place. When I brought the issue up while we were face-to-face, he could barely look me in the eye, while his facial expression conveyed that he had only the least amount of concern for her, the same amount he clearly had for me over the years.

However, when I left his home, I perceived that our relationship would take a turn for the better. Unfortunately, things became worse. I finally opened up and did something I never thought of doing—asking him for help. He had helped me purchase one of the many textbooks I needed for my courses, so I figured that since I was now a college student he would not mind helping me with my expenses periodically. That was not his intention. He never attempted to support me financially, and I was foolish to think that he would willingly change.

Coming out of my shell to face rejection was the hardest thing to deal with. I grew up refusing to pick up the phone and ask him for anything, and when I finally decided to let my guard down, he disappointed me as he had regularly done in the past. I regretted my decision for the longest time, and I concluded that I would be better off if he stayed out of my life completely.

I still feel remnants of pain occasionally while I try to create the “what-if” scenarios in my mind. A part of me will always long to be that naïve child who would hang on to my father’s every promise over the phone, but I understand that in order for me to move away from the hurt, I must mature in that sense.

Accepting the fact that some individuals are only meant to be in my life for a season, I have come to realize that I never needed my father to be a part of my life, I just wanted him there. The challenges that have been placed in my life during this struggle within our broken relationship have motivated me to strive for the best in the most difficult of times.

Looking back, I recognize that I have never allowed the unresolved problems I have with my father to interfere with my academics. I received my high school diploma without him, and I will receive my bachelor’s degree without him. In fact, his lack of participation in my life has pushed me to work harder and want more for myself.

I might not have a clearly defined relationship with my father, but the family I do have has remained constant in my life since the very beginning. Knowing that I have their approval is all the encouragement that I need to continue to move forward and strive for the best.

Crissinda Ponder is a writer for the Red and Black at the University of Georgia, where she is currently pursuing a bachelor of arts degree in journalism. Her work has also appeared in VOX, an Atlanta-based teen newspaper. She can be contacted by e-mail at crissponder@gmail.com.