Dads Visits

If you remember the last time I saw my dad he asked for a rain check after I had made him a birthday dinner. I had just turned 8 years old.
When I was 10 almost 11 at Christmas Dad showed up bearing gifts. I was so excited. We were still living with Granny and she met him on the walk. She didn't let him in the house but I was just thrilled to see him even if it was through the screen door. My brother was not as thrilled and immediately left to call my mom.
Now for this of you who are younger. My brother had to leave the front door and go into the kitchen to call my mom. Our phones were attached to the wall or the desk. They also had "dials" on them. We actually dialed the number one at a time, it was quite time consuming. My mother did not live long enough to even see a cell phone. This still amazes me at how much technology had progressed in my lifetime since I am currently typing this blog into my phone.
But I digress my brother quickly disappeared and I knew he had went to call her. Mom didn't work far away and was at the curb in what seemed like seconds. From the moment she stepped out of the car she was yelling at him and he was yelling back. I quickly closed the door and went to my room. I was mad at my brother for calling my mom which ended up with my dad leaving. He left Christmas presents for us. They were not age appropriate but my mom defended him as we were returning the gifts explaining that he didn't know what we liked but at least he tried. I just wondered if I would ever are him again.
It was a over a year later when he came again the details are fuzzy and soon you will see why. This time he called first. He asked my mom if he could visit and she asked us of we wanted to see him. I of course was thrilled at the idea and to my surprise my brother agreed. Of course with his little sister bouncing around excited to see her "daddy" I guess he felt he couldn't say no. The date was set for the following week and tensions were high in the house. My mom and brother were fighting constantly about what I don't remember. I do remember my mom slamming kitchen cupboards and telling my brother if he didn't like it here he could live with his dad, and my brother storming out of the room saying maybe I will! Now even though I wasn't very old I knew both of them well enough that they would never carry through on these threats. My brother and I didn't even know our dad and neither one of us would ever want to live with him. I can honestly say that I never even wanted my parents to get back together because I loved our family of three an anyone else would just mess it up. But I watched and listened as they fought and I didn't like it. In my mind there was only one person to blame for all of this tension and it was my dad.
Now as I said before I was incredibly excited for the visit and I told my best friend about it. I told her how happy I was and how wonderful he was. I talked with joy and excitement. The day finally came that I would see him and the next day on our way to school I said nothing. In fact I never mentioned it again. My friend was not going to ask but a year later we were walking along and I brought it up. I was thinking about how long it had been since I saw him. I talked about how it had been years and she quickly corrected me. She reminded me of his visit the year before and told me that she figured it was really bad since I never mentioned it again. I stopped in my tracks as the memory of the evening came flooding back and I told her what I tell you now.
He showed up right on time and I ran to the door. My mom and brother finally stopped arguing when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and began screaming at him. I yelled at him for leaving, and for the rain check and for not knowing me enough to buy me the right gifts. I yelled at him for hurting our family and for causing all of us pain. I yelled at him for making everyone in the house so upset. I blamed him for every wrong thing that ever happened in my young life and then I told him to get out and I never wanted to see him again. Then I ran to my room sobbing and I cried myself to sleep. I remember my mom coming to my room and stroking my hair and telling me everything would be alright. I woke up the next morning as if nothing had happened and we never spoke of it, for a whole year. When I went home that day I thought about talking to my mom about what I remembered, but then I decided not to. It wasn't the last time I saw him, but he did stay away and we went on as a family of three.