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My father is a man of very few words. I am reminded of this during our quarterly phone calls. I am also reminded of the fact that we are very much alike…and I hate that. My father is a stoic, apathetic man who talks on the surface level and never once expressed any interest in me as a person, let alone as his daughter. He calls me once every three months and talks for five minutes and fulfills his fatherly duty of staying in touch. I have no idea who my father is and yet, I know exactly what he’s about because I’m his daughter. I have longed for that father/daughter relationship all my life. The one where he is protective and comforting and giving of himself because he would sacrifice anything to help me grow as a person. The one where we confide in one another and he imparts sage advice based on the many years of watching me develop into the woman I am today. The one where when I see his number pop up on my phone, I don’t cringe and let it go to voicemail. Yep, it’s pretty safe to say that I have daddy issues. 

This entry is supposed to be about the man who had the greatest impact on my life. That sounds like a positive thing, right?  Well, the man that has the greatest impact on my life has been my father, and it’s not been positive. This is so heavy to unpack and will more than likely require multiple entries to really understand but for now, it’s important to know that mine and my father’s relationship is strained and super awkward. When we talk, I never elaborate any further than, “yeah, work is going well” and “Taylor [my son] is fine”. That’s another thing. My son is 29 years old. He’s probably seen my father literally a handful of times. It’s very sad and yet, I don’t feel as though my son has missed out on much. I don’t see how having my dad in my son’s life would have been beneficial in any way. The tragic profundity of that statement is hard to wrap my head around. 

My father’s greatest impact on my life has been his literal absence – both physically and emotionally. Sure, he’s always been there, in some way, in the background, but the connection never felt genuine. The words, “you have always been there for me” would never come out of my mouth because they’re not true and they would be so hollow that I fear I would choke on them. In fact, the only thing I can honestly say that my father has taught me is that being his daughter is messy and, based on his actions, should be avoided.