Daddy and his wife moved into a tall, white dilapidated Victorian house with plum trees growing in the yard. His wife and he adopted and raised her two grandbabies, a little girl and a little boy. In my heart, I felt like my Daddy had not only traded Mama for someone else, he had replaced me and my little brother, who were the two youngest in our family, as well.
Sunday afternoons were supposed to be our visitation time with Daddy. When Daddy came and picked us up and took us to a movie or out to pizza, just him and us, it was a good visit. If we went back to his house so he could putter around there doing chores, I hated it. I didn’t feel welcome there, in Daddy’s house with his new wife and kids. His wife never cooked a meal for us that I can recall. I remember snacking on saltine crackers spread with margarine and grape jelly because I was so hungry. Their house was dirty and disheveled and smelled like urine from their kid’s wet clothes. My Mama was a very good cook, and kept our house nice and clean. I couldn’t figure out why Daddy traded Mama in for someone who didn’t do either one.
On Sunday afternoons I started to develop a habit of telling Mama I didn’t feel good, so then I didn’t have to go to Daddy’s. As I grew older the visits got even less frequent as I got involved in our church youth group that met on Sunday evenings. The Daddy that, as a little girl, I had adored and I were becoming strangers.
The one thing I never stopped doing for my Daddy was praying. Mama had gotten us kids involved in a good church when Daddy left. I knew that Daddy had loved Jesus at one time, but I figured that when he had left us, he had left Jesus too. I didn’t know back then, that Jesus doesn’t let go of people all that easily.
A girl needs her Daddy during the turbulent teen years. Daddy wasn’t there to advise me, guide me or protect me during the turmoil of puberty, to meet the boys I dated, or to comfort me when I got a broken heart. By God’s grace, however, I got through junior high and high school relatively unscathed and graduated third in my class. Just before I left for college the following September, Daddy gave me his one and only piece of fatherly counsel, “If you go off and get yourself pregnant, I’ll kick your behind.” I think the door of my heart slammed shut and padlocked tight with the hurt that those were his parting words to me.
{to be continued…}
Still following,
Elizabeth
This gives me tears. I think of my own kids who are about the same age as you were then, and I can't imagine them having to go through something like that. Can't wait to read the rest of the story...
ReplyDeleteOh Elizabeth, Your story is heartbreaking. I'm so thankful to know you now...and evidence the grace, faithfulness, and love of God in your life.
ReplyDeleteFeeling your pain here, Elizabeth. I want to keep reading...
ReplyDeleteElizabeth...thanks for sharing your story...the story that has written part of your life...so sorry for those callous words...words that do seal off a heart. The good thing about reading this pain now...is knowing that God is a healer and He came to heal and set you free...so you can tell this story of forgiveness. blessings to you~
ReplyDeleteStill listening. Still here. Following your journey and hugging you, right through this computer screen. Love you.
ReplyDeleteGood to read that He never let your Dad go..looking forward to the next installment. xox.
ReplyDeleteReading along, Elizabeth. So sorry for all your pain.
ReplyDeleteSending you a hug, Elizabeth, as I read your words, and grateful for the hope you hint at, and for God's grace in your life as evidenced by your words...{{{Hugs}}}
ReplyDeleteTears threatening to spill out, here. A girl does need her daddy and I'm waiting for the rest of your story...knowing there must be some redemption in it because that's what He does.
ReplyDeletewow... an intensely deep writing with more to come... it is therapy to write it all out, it is good to share parts of ourselves with others and to know we are still accepted. I know the emptiness of a daughter without a father, and even now at 85 he is still distant from me.
ReplyDeleteKeep writing and sharing and we will keep encouraging you.
Thank you for sharing your story. I too had an absent father and I don't think the hole caused by that absence ever gets filled.
ReplyDeleteI read your story in the morning and then this evening I was writing in my 1000 gifts journal and realized I had just listed my 1,000th gift. I had not numbered todays thanks at the time but my last one of the day was an unexpected overnight visit from my grandson which brings me more joy than almost anything and he was my last entry for the day. Then I numbered them and he was the 1,000th gift. I couldn't believe it had worked out like that. The thanks kind of helps me handle the sadder parts of life a little bit better.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your story. Words can't ever be taken back. I'm so sorry you've had to live with the hurt your daddy's choices - and his words - brought to your heart.
ReplyDelete~Adrienne~