Come To My Window

I am a little more than 2 months away from my 32nd birthday and I am still looking for my father to show up for me. I am still waiting for him to keep his promise. I got a call from my aunt today. She called to tell me that she had just passed my father on the street walking to god knows where. She offered, "I'll turn around if you want me to." Translation, "I would much rather not, but I will for you because you are my niece. For certain I will NOT give him a ride to wherever the hell he is headed." I can respect that. I declined her offer to turn around. Would've been good to at least hear his voice. I think one of the last times I talked to him in length was the morning of my mother's funeral a little more than 8 yrs ago. I have never lived a day in the same house with my dad that I can remember. My mom left him when I was a newborn. I know why my mother left him. I think he thinks I hold it against him. I don't. He should thank my mother for that. She never, once, spoke one negative word about him. It doesn't mean that she never cursed him to her friends but in my presence I never heard anything derogatory about my father come from her mouth. Talking to my aunt and then to my husband took me back to when I was a little girl waiting for her daddy to just show up. I'm not sure if he feels like I expect something from him. If he feels like he doesn't deserve a chance to be in my life. Does he feel like I resent him for the past between he and my mother. I don't know what it is. I just know that it feels like he is constantly running from me. Finding some reason to give me the vapors. My arms are outstretched. I want my girls to know my only living parent. Hell, I want to know him. I'm a grown ass woman still sitting in the window waiting with confident anticipation for her daddy to simply show up.

70 x 7

I have eff'd up. Wait! Let me make it plain. I will call a spade a spade. I have fucked up. I can take that. Admit that. I was arrogant in thinking I would never be "that woman". I am gripping more handily the fact that I have now, after 31 years of living, a single regret. I have vaccilated in describing what that is. Is it that I have lost one of the most treasured individuals in my life? Is it that I have pained that person? Caused the very thing I wanted most to alleviate and shelter them from? I have settled on the latter as it speaks to the person I thought I was, rather who I never imagined I could or would be in any spanse of time.

I lament the state of things. Truly, I do. Rarely is there an idle moment that is not occupied with a thought or memory centered on this person. Love remains. It hurts. The part of me that wants to insist on equity as if I am in any position to negotiate terms and such was supported by a post on Twitter that said (paraphrase)"if the good outweighs the bad, forgive and forget". Honestly, I don't anticipate amnesia. A clearer picture of forgiveness is my hope. Though I am not much on complex mathematical equations, I am pretty efficient in basic multiplication. To the point where I don't need pen and paper or even a calculator to know that 70 multiplied by 7 gives me 490 times to sin, miss the mark, mis-step-- shit, fuck up.

I won't belabor the point. I realize that a resurrection would not make for a regeneration of what we had before. Simply put, shit would change. I get that. I just want the memory of me in this individuals mind to not be summed up by the pain I have regretfully caused. Love abounds!

My lesson...among other things is that “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~Rumi

Humbled...