I had a perfect weekend. I say that a lot. “It was a perfect day!” “What a perfect sunset!” I can’t help it. It’s the eternal sunshine in my hopeful heart. The world is just so dang awesome! But I did have a great weekend. Friday night football with my high school buds after pizza at the local hangout. We won against our arch rivals. It was a dead even game and we won by a field goal with 2.1 seconds left on the clock! My friends and I remarked how we felt just like we did 43 years ago when we were last there. The only difference was, I was wearing my full length blue fox coat! It was 31 degrees and not all that far from the river…it was darned chilly in that stadium. Ok, I had a really awesome moment when the entire cheerleading squad dropped their mouths open as I walked by and this sweet little girl said, “Oh, my gosh! I love your coat!” The cheerleaders liked me! Wow! (giggle)

I stayed overnight at one of my cousins’ house. We had coffee together Saturday then I took off for craft shows with another cousin. We had dinner out with their friends Saturday night. Yesterday morning we had coffee and sat around all morning sharing stories. I am so happy to be getting to know these cousins. Both sets. They come from my dad’s side of the family. My parents divorced when I was in my early twenties. I really hadn’t had as close a connection with my dad’s family as I had with my mom’s. It is very interesting talking with dad’s family now. He went on and remarried, quit drinking, found Jesus, and became a kind and gentle person in his community so they knew an entirely different man than I did. However, his interaction with me never changed and we had a very strained to practically non-existent relationship. Two sides of the same coin.

For a long time after my father died, I was perplexed by the lack of resolution. Whenever I had tried to resolve things with him as an adult, he didn’t want to discuss it with me. He just wanted to forget the whole thing and I wasn’t enlightened enough at the time to realize how hard it was for him to express his feelings. By the time I had it figured out, he was severely demented and then he died and no resolution would ever come. Or would it? I figured it would do no harm to resolve the matter on my own terms so one day I sat down and rewrote history. I had a “conversation” with my dad. I told him exactly how I felt. I told him all my hurts. I cried and told him how much I missed having a daddy that wasn’t drunk all the time. I told him about his little girl that waited in the car on Christmas Eve while her mommy went in every bar in town looking for him to bring him home. I told him how much he scared me when he brought the gun in the kitchen. I told him I loved him and hated him and missed him and wanted his friendship all my life. I told him I was so jealous of the other girls whose Daddy’s were their champions and cheerleaders and best friends. And then I got quiet and I listened. And here’s what my daddy said to me:

“Oh, honey…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the daddy you needed, the daddy you deserved. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your mommy’s fault. It was me. I didn’t know any better. I did the best I could with the knowledge I had, but I just didn’t know how my behaviors would affect you. I didn’t do it on purpose, and I’d take it all back if I had a do-over. See, I went to the South Pacific in the Army. I got really, really sick when I was there. I was afraid to drink the water so I drank beer…a lot. My dad drank a lot too…so this was what I knew. I started drawing pictures when I was away. I was pretty good. I wanted to be a commercial artist. Or a farmer. When I was stateside at Camp Pendleton, I met a woman named Virginia Cunningham. She was beautiful. She stole my heart and I wanted to marry her, but she said no. I was devastated. Your mom and I met when I came home. A boy had broken her heart, too. So we married, hoping our hearts would mend but they didn’t. You kids came along, responsibilities took over, and my dreams of being an artist and a farmer were long gone by the time you could walk. I coped with the only skill I had left and that was alcohol. I’m really, truly sorry, baby girl. I loved you every day of your life. I was always so proud of you. I told everyone about my Ginny and my beautiful grandchildren. I’m sorry I didn’t try to get to know them, or you. Please forgive me for not being there for you, your brother, your mom, your babies. I’ll make it up to you. We can talk about it in Heaven someday, I promise.”

It’s ok, Daddy. I forgive you.

<3