It breaks my heart to have the recurring thought that the relationship with my father is actually falling apart. I don’t want to admit that its the truth but time after time, it proves to be reality.
Here I am, visiting my parents on the east coast, spending nearly ten hours traversing to and from airports, spending hundreds of dollars and traveling thousands of miles, all so I can come temporarily live under the roof of the people who raised me. As much as I miss them living far apart, there is a reason that I left nearly fifteen years ago. Part of that reason was the fact that I was growing up and growing out of our small town. Another part was that I wanted and needed my independence and to decide what direction I would go in life. And, as I have discovered over the years, the third part of the reason is that I really can’t handle my parents for too long of a time. After a short couple days of visiting, whether they come to me or I visit them, after day two or three I am ready to return to my sense of normal – Hugo, our lovely, quiet house, the pups and no one else.
It makes me sad to feel as distant as I do from my father. And most of it has to do with him, despite the fact that I usually blame myself and feel as if I have done something wrong. I know, deep down, that I haven’t and I shouldn’t feel badly for having moved cross-country. Regardless of the shadow of blame he casts on me, as if I have done wrong or performed poorly in life, I know I have done well. Thankfully, my mom, who I am as close as ever to, reassures me of such and Hugo eternally supports me in what I do.
It has been a strange reality coming to terms with being disconnected from my dad. The relationship we used to have, when I was much younger, has slowly faded away over the years. That fade, coupled with his distant personality and real lack of interest in what I do, who I have become and the life we are living on the West coast, makes for the great divide I am experiencing.
Sometimes I don’t know if he feels it like I do. I do know that he has always wanted me to move back to my hometown so I could buy the lot of land adjacent to his and build a home there. Well, that’s not happening Dad so get used to it. I feel harsh saying it but rather than focus on the fact that I am not moving back home, I just wish he would support my life as it is. Maybe show an ounce of interest in where I live, what I do and who I have become. That ounce would go a long way.
