Why My Dad Made The Decision, Part 2
"I believe that more unhappiness comes from this source than from any other--I mean from the attempt to prolong family connections unduly and to make people hang together artificially who would never naturally do so." ~ Samuel Butler
I didn't see my dad for about a year before he died. He'd been married before he met my mom and had a son from that marriage. They never had a relationship while his son (Shannon) was growing up. My father liked to cry and feel sorry for himself about it every once in a while.
I spoke with my parents for an hour every day after I moved out of their house. A year before Dad checked out, he started calling me a couple of times every day, haranguing me to get in touch with Shannon. It was critical to the development of their relationship. My father had always made me feel that he'd sacrificed having a boy to provide financially for me. When I was a little girl, I believed it was my fault. It made me angry. It bruised my soul.
I've never had any interest in getting to know Shannon. I resented him, the Golden Child left behind. I do not feel connected to him. For me, sharing a genetic link doesn't imply a relationship, although it's likely that Shannon is possessed by the same madness that infected my father and everyone else in his family. Why would I invite that into my life? It's a terrifying possibility.
Furthermore, I thought my father used his blossoming relationship with his son to carry on with his first wife. Before he started nagging me about it, my father had gone to the state where his son and ex lived (and where virtually all of my father's family lived) for a visit. He stayed at his ex-wife's house and my mom stayed at my aunt's house. When I found out about that, I was enraged. I didn't want to do anything that would encourage that kind of behavior.
My dad didn't have a lot of good things to say about Shannon, most notably, that he had a drinking problem. I've had a rule since I was a teenager: I don't have relationships with addicts who aren't in recovery. I was very ill at the time and the thought of receiving some of those 3:00 a.m. phone calls that alcoholics like to make ratcheted up my already-high anxiety level.
Nonetheless, I finally gave in. I called Shannon and left a message.
posted by: mineral blue (reply)
post date: 11.15.07 (1:05 pm)
Wow, the quote from Samuel Butler is so true. How clearly & succinctly put.
It IS very hurtful to be compared with another child, even a half-sibling. And even more so to feel as if there is a 'lien on your life' due to a parent's irresponsible handling of *their* relationship with that other child.
That attitude toward you, too, as a daughter - well, that stinks. Phooey!
I don't blame you for not wanting to contact Shannon now; seems like your Dad was just wanting to utilize you, somehow, for his own reasons, by trying to get you to contact *his* son.
I know you loved your Dad. All children love our parents - it's hard-wired into us - we have little choice. He sure was a selfish man, though.
I don't wonder that you'll have nothing to do with alcoholics or other addicts who are not in recovery. I don't do that, either. I once had an opportunity to marry a man who had been an alcoholic. He had not been drinking for some time. However, he allowed his first marriage to go to hell because of his drinking. He had a wonderful, 8 year old daughter whom he adored. I reasoned: if he did not care enough about *her* to stop his drinking and save his family; then what on earth makes me think he will "never drink" for me? Utter fantasy.
Sounds like there is so little you could have done, to have helped your father be different. I am so sorry he killed himself. No one needs that - not him, and not you. But especially, I feel for *you*. ;-)
posted by: mimi (reply)
post date: 11.15.07 (5:54 pm)
I don't know who "mineral blue" is, but what kind and tender words. I agree with it all.
xoxo
posted by: LadyG (reply)
post date: 11.15.07 (6:29 pm)
Ditto, well said. (((HUGS)))
posted by: ggirl (reply)
post date: 11.16.07 (6:40 am)
Reply to: Mineral Blue
Thank you, dear friend. Yes, my dad just wanted to use me. That was the nature of our relationship. Actually, that was the nature of his relationship with everyone--a means to an end. I *did* love my dad and I still do. My therapist frequently says that there's nothing so exquisitely difficult as loving someone you feel both contempt for and pity. She's right.
I'm so glad you didn't marry the alcoholic. I can see why you would question the nature of your future together. Do you know what happened to him?
Nope, not much to be done to help my dad. Heaven knows I tried all of my life, from the time I was a little girl. Thank you, as always, for your kindness. Love to you.
posted by: mineral blue (reply)
post date: 11.16.07 (9:13 am)
Since your Dad 'used' anyone & everyone as a means to an end *for himself*, well, this shows how much of his problem was about HIM. And how little of it was about, or had anything to do with, YOU.
Argh - I can so relate to being born hard-wired to love one's parent; and trying, all of one's life, over & over again, to do so. Yet, the individual cannot hear, or their heart is closed, or something.
And as you say, the mixture of those extremes, such as contempt & pity for him at the same time, makes for a tremendously difficult experience of both remembering him and separating from him.
That you still love him is a testament to the beautiful person that you are. :) I mean, God loves like that: unconditionally, despite all. And one could say: your father certainly tried your patience, your love, and just about everything else in you. ;-)
No, I don't know what happened to my would-be alcoholic fiance. Sometimes I do wish I could find him, or see him again. Curiousity. ;-)
But once I knew very clearly that, if he did not love his daughter enough to stop, & to save the foundation of her young life - their family; well, then I could not ever be the magic elixir for him. So, as the old adage goes, I returned him (like a fish) - gently - to the sea. I never wonder what might have happened, had I proceeded with him...
You're so welcome, dear friend. May the abundant love that you have within, along with the love of God and all of us here, help to heal you from the effects of your father's eternal 'blast'...
I send you my love too.
