Have you ever read the Princess Diaries ?The whole story about a girl, living with her mother and one day discovering that somewhere far away, her father is the prince of Genovia ?
Welcome to the life of 8 year old Sirli who has never met her father. You know, we all as kids, we have a very strong imagination and I was not an exception. As little information I had about him, the whole idea about him as a person was based on the books I've read, the dreams I dreamed and the hopes I had. My little mind thought that one day he would just appear to our front door, his arms wide open, ready to embrace me. I wouldn't have cared about "all the possible reasons" he had left us behind because for me as a child, all that matters is the present presence.
My little mind kept dreaming for years, I kept hoping that one day, one day.... It didn't happen. Not the way i thought it would.
The day I actually met him was because my mom got tired of me being so vocal and stubborn about finding my father, that she packed my things, drove me to my dad's place and left me there. The day I had waited for so long, when I finally looked at him ... I felt like I was being hit by a rock.The very first time I realized that maybe my mom was right. That all this negativity she had painted around my father...it all had a reason?
The embracement, warmth, love, acknowledgement - it just wasn't there. I felt like I'm an outsider, invading his personal space where I'm clearly not welcomed. And the more I stayed with him, that more I felt it. Instead of getting closer..we got more further apart. The very first time, he gave the most fake smile I've ever experienced from someone who ought to be close to me and then he shrugged. Careless like he was, not only about me but also about his surroundings ... it was just his lifestyle. Never take a responsibility. Responsibility of his actions. All this attitude towards the life, it was so careless. Still living with his mother, I was soon sleeping and sharing a room with those 2 strangers , being underaged youth constantly exposed to alcohol and cigarettes.Countless times, during late nights, I used to sit with him at the bar seeing him drinking and ordering more and more... I was afraid. It wasn't safe and I never knew when we will go back "home'. It was extremely difficult for me to see a person being like that, going down the road and meanwhile, trying to keep my head held high. Not only I had to support myself but also him, after those nights....listening his hate towards life, my mom, other people.
I had a tons of questions. Why, when, will you? His excuse to not care he rolled on my mom. She didn't let, she is the cause, she was ... I rather not reveal. But we all know and so did I that even when a mother refuses the father to see his child, to be part of the growth and experience, some legal actions can be made. But he didn't want to. He never wanted me to be his child. Sometimes, as terribly rude as it was, he used to tell I might be someone else's child. Just like my mom would have been a whore. I knew my mom better than anyone, it was a complete bullshit. Because it's easy to live like that, not to take responsibility of anything. When I told him we can do the DNA paternity test, he refused many times. I can't force anyone to be something they don't want to. Although I was very young, I tried my best. The best so I could be loved and wanted. I didn't ask him to pay the child support or anything, the only thing I had longed for was the feeling of being loved. That it would be complete. That he would be there with me, share my experiences, joy, happiness. But he had given up on his life. A month later I searched my mom up on her workplace, begging her to take me back. I never returned to my father's place. We, however, met each other occasionally.
Three years ago I received a call from my aunt.He had died of heart attack that was caused by stress, alcohol overconsumption and intoxication. I was emotionless. There was no feelings. There was no sorrow.
I faked my cry on funerals so my relatives from father's side wouldn't think I'm a terrible human being.
But I had nothing to cry for....because he was never there for me. I had no connection with him. There's only anger. I'm left with anger. Anger towards him what he did to my mom and anger towards my mom how did she let it to happen without thinking . Living without a father has been one of the most challenging things in my life, because it has affected my relationships with other human beings . I trust nobody. The constant fear of being left behind, of being hurt, being misunderstood and mistreated. Lies, keeping secrets, not being honest... I can't. I'm tired.
I am still not forgiven. For both of my parents. I know, deep inside they are all human beings, imperfectly perfect, making mistakes. There's no reason to carry this burden of their errors on my shoulders, if not for them then I should forgive to myself. So I could finally set myself free. Move on. But I can't. The wound hasn't healed and I can't forgive.
Welcome to the life of 8 year old Sirli who has never met her father. You know, we all as kids, we have a very strong imagination and I was not an exception. As little information I had about him, the whole idea about him as a person was based on the books I've read, the dreams I dreamed and the hopes I had. My little mind thought that one day he would just appear to our front door, his arms wide open, ready to embrace me. I wouldn't have cared about "all the possible reasons" he had left us behind because for me as a child, all that matters is the present presence.
My little mind kept dreaming for years, I kept hoping that one day, one day.... It didn't happen. Not the way i thought it would.
The day I actually met him was because my mom got tired of me being so vocal and stubborn about finding my father, that she packed my things, drove me to my dad's place and left me there. The day I had waited for so long, when I finally looked at him ... I felt like I was being hit by a rock.The very first time I realized that maybe my mom was right. That all this negativity she had painted around my father...it all had a reason?
The embracement, warmth, love, acknowledgement - it just wasn't there. I felt like I'm an outsider, invading his personal space where I'm clearly not welcomed. And the more I stayed with him, that more I felt it. Instead of getting closer..we got more further apart. The very first time, he gave the most fake smile I've ever experienced from someone who ought to be close to me and then he shrugged. Careless like he was, not only about me but also about his surroundings ... it was just his lifestyle. Never take a responsibility. Responsibility of his actions. All this attitude towards the life, it was so careless. Still living with his mother, I was soon sleeping and sharing a room with those 2 strangers , being underaged youth constantly exposed to alcohol and cigarettes.Countless times, during late nights, I used to sit with him at the bar seeing him drinking and ordering more and more... I was afraid. It wasn't safe and I never knew when we will go back "home'. It was extremely difficult for me to see a person being like that, going down the road and meanwhile, trying to keep my head held high. Not only I had to support myself but also him, after those nights....listening his hate towards life, my mom, other people.
I had a tons of questions. Why, when, will you? His excuse to not care he rolled on my mom. She didn't let, she is the cause, she was ... I rather not reveal. But we all know and so did I that even when a mother refuses the father to see his child, to be part of the growth and experience, some legal actions can be made. But he didn't want to. He never wanted me to be his child. Sometimes, as terribly rude as it was, he used to tell I might be someone else's child. Just like my mom would have been a whore. I knew my mom better than anyone, it was a complete bullshit. Because it's easy to live like that, not to take responsibility of anything. When I told him we can do the DNA paternity test, he refused many times. I can't force anyone to be something they don't want to. Although I was very young, I tried my best. The best so I could be loved and wanted. I didn't ask him to pay the child support or anything, the only thing I had longed for was the feeling of being loved. That it would be complete. That he would be there with me, share my experiences, joy, happiness. But he had given up on his life. A month later I searched my mom up on her workplace, begging her to take me back. I never returned to my father's place. We, however, met each other occasionally.
Three years ago I received a call from my aunt.He had died of heart attack that was caused by stress, alcohol overconsumption and intoxication. I was emotionless. There was no feelings. There was no sorrow.
I faked my cry on funerals so my relatives from father's side wouldn't think I'm a terrible human being.
But I had nothing to cry for....because he was never there for me. I had no connection with him. There's only anger. I'm left with anger. Anger towards him what he did to my mom and anger towards my mom how did she let it to happen without thinking . Living without a father has been one of the most challenging things in my life, because it has affected my relationships with other human beings . I trust nobody. The constant fear of being left behind, of being hurt, being misunderstood and mistreated. Lies, keeping secrets, not being honest... I can't. I'm tired.
I am still not forgiven. For both of my parents. I know, deep inside they are all human beings, imperfectly perfect, making mistakes. There's no reason to carry this burden of their errors on my shoulders, if not for them then I should forgive to myself. So I could finally set myself free. Move on. But I can't. The wound hasn't healed and I can't forgive.