Father's Day Lament

I am not the first person in the world to ever grow up without a father in his life. By that, I mean a constant father and not a divorced out of state see ya every couple of months father. I didn't grow up with male influences and masculine energy in my life. I didn't get the validation of becoming a man as I went through puberty on to adulthood. And I certainly didn't get the recognition of being the only male child in a household that could barely recongnize my queerness. I grew up with men who verbally and physically assaulted me. I grew up with men who knew substance abuse and hatred. I grew up with detached from and devoid of emotion, so much so that it is hard for me to be in touch with some of my feelings out of fear of not "taking it like a man". I am not the first person in the world to ever, ever grow up without a father in his life. I am not the first person to ever grow up wondering what it would be like if my father and I (both biological and adoptive) had had the kind of relationship that had unconditional bonds. I don't know what it is like to have a man watch out for me, or put my interests above his own. I don't know what it is like to love my father any different than the way I love him now. I love him as the title appropriates and as a son should according to social norms, but I don't have that emotional connection to him that forms between parent and child. It's sad, but true. When I was younger, he was my "Daddy" until some spiteful man mocked me endessly about how I chose to identify the man my entire life. He was my "Daddy" for so many blissful years that I can't remember what it was like before the other man in my world made how I talked seem so faggish. He was my "daddy" until I was made to feel uncomfortable loving him the only way that I knew how...and that was with a child's innocence. Many men took advantage of that innocence between the time my parents divorced and the time when that one man made me feel like I was nothing more than an effeminant little bitch. Men abused me. Men sexualized themselves around me. Men ignored me. Men did everything, but show me kindness. And I made it to adulthood hoping that someday, I would meet a man that I could love and share all of the kindness I had been storing up in my heart. Of course, that didn't happen either. Love comes and goes and comes and goes and comes and goes, before eventually dying in a fit of rage after someone else has broken the shattered heart that you have been trying to share. It hurts. It feels like abandonment. And yet, I am still not the first person in the world to ever grow up without a father in his life. What I do recall....some of the only memories that I have are special. My father probably wouldn't remember them, but they are mine. Like this one time, my father took us kids hiking somewhere in Usery Pass. I remember being told to make sure that we do not get to close to the edge or risk falling off the side of the mountain. At the top there was a cave and some good views. It was a hot Arizona day and we all enjoyed the walk to the shaded oasis that waited for us at the end of the hike. What I really recall from that memory was the ride home. We stopped at a place that served A&W rootbeer and got hot dogs, french fries and rootbeer. I was in little kid heaven. And not so much for the fact that I was spending time with my dad, but more so for the fact I got to have a hot dog, french fries and a rootbeer. Other memories that I have are when my Dad dropped me from a utility pole when I was like 5 or 6. My Uncle was waiting down at the bottom of the pole and caught me and it was al just a fun and games thing that they did when I was younger. I wasn't always the person without a father in his life, but I became the person who lived without a father (or father figure) in his life and couldn't understand why. My Dad called every once in a while. My dad sometimes sent the $200 child support payments for me and my two siblings as I was growing up. My dad came by to hang out with us when he got the time and then he went back to California where he lived his actual life with his actual wife and actual step-children. I am not sure how much of his life he can look back on and wonder why he never called his children more times than he did. I would think, as a parent, you would constantly want to hear the voices of your children on a daily basis. I would think that you would move heaven and earth to be with them or be in their world. But that wasn't or hasn't ever been the case in my life. It takes a special person to be a parent. Not everyone can do it. Sometimes I wish that my parents had tried harder and put their ego's aside. But we all deal with the cards we are dealt as we grow older. We internalize trauma and heartache until it turns us into different people. We transform from loving individuals to numb sentient beings waiting for death. Occasuionally we are reminded that we have a tie that binds us and for a few small moments we reminisce about the things that used to make us a whole unit. Yet, we supress ever saying the things we most want to say to one another. We cherry pick the things in our lives that we are willing and unwilling to discuss or verbalize. And we excuse hurtful behaviors because of age and the times that people grew up in and never ever fully expect for them to learn or grow as you have learned and grrew without them. It's not so easy to grow up with out a father in you life, but it isn't so hard to be as distant from the one who thought wishing you well was the same as giving you what you needed. Is he selfish, probably. Am I an asshole for thinking that, most definitely. I am not my father's son. There are times when I wish that he and I were closer than we are. But what we know of one another has pretty much kept us at odds. He lives his normal life in California with his really real family and I live my life here in Arizona. I live here as a memory of a life that he once had and a family he no longer wanted to care for. Make of it what you will and define it how you would like. Make no mistake about my tone or infliction with this entry, because all I have ever wanted was to have some kind of bond with another human being that was stronger than anything in this world. Whether or not I belonged to him, I should have mattered to him. If only he had ever asked me what I needed.