I saw my dad this weekend, the one who disowned me and erased my childhood. He walked on the opposite side of the foodcourt, searching for something, most likely a Starbucks. I saw only the side of his head, the frame of glasses, and his back. He was almost a stranger among the passing crowd, among the people laughing as they wait in line, among the families gathered around a table and eating together.

The visit request

My parents flew up from Florida to visit my uncle, who lives about two hours away from me. Prior to their visit, my mom asked if she and my dad could see my kids, if we could meet half way at a mall.

The mere thought of having to face my dad again caused my heart to start racing. Thankfully, my mom quickly stated that I wouldn't. She planned to pick the kids up from the food court and bring them elsewhere to spend time with my dad. I considered saying no, that I didn't want to expose my kids to this twisted relationship.

I try to view difficult situations as learning opportunities, as a chance for my kids and I to have meaningful conversations.

However, my husband and I have never subscribed to keeping up appearances, pretending everything's okay, and shielding our kids from the truth. Instead, I try to view difficult situations as learning opportunities, as a chance for my kids and I to have meaningful conversations.

My son's choice

Knowing that I wouldn't be pushed into seeing my dad again, my husband and I decided to ask our 6-year-old what he wanted. He didn't hesitate. His smile stretched clear across his face as he told us he wanted to see his memaw and grandpa again. How could I deny him that?

After all, I myself have three grandparents I hardly knew, and I regret losing that connection to my past. If my son wants a chance to know his, I'm not going to hold him back, as long their relationship stays healthy.

I'd rather he learn to seek the truth for himself and discern what makes him comfortable.

Also, my husband and I intentionally remind our son that he should focus on his relationship with his grandfather and not worry about me. I appreciate my son's concern for me, but I don't want him to take sides. He doesn't owe me loyalty. I'd rather he learn to seek the truth for himself and discern what makes him comfortable.

And at the end of the day, my son went home with a smile on his face and love in his heart.

My thoughts and feelings

I feared my anxiety would skyrocket if I saw my dad again. Surprisingly, I was okay. I felt a quiet sense of peace and love coat my heart as he walked further away. From a distance, I didn't have to subject myself to being ignored or silenced. From a distance, I could wish him well.

I also couldn't help but pity his inability to join us at the table. He didn't get to see the kids jump out of their seats the moment they recognized memaw. He had to wait his turn to shower their pudgy cheeks with kisses and squished them with long-overdue hugs.

I felt a quiet sense of peace and love coat my heart as he walked further away.

On the other hand, I still feel silenced, knowing he'll never care to understand or recognize my pain. Moreover, part of me wonders what story he told himself. Did he convince himself that I didn't want to see him? That I'm the inflexible one? That I'm the one who closed the door to our relationship?

I considered telling my mom that we could all meet at the food court if my dad would remain civil. But I wasn't ready to test that. After all, I don't have past evidence of him ever being able to do just that. My dad had refused to step foot in our vacation home back in 2019. I've seen first hand his ability to hold a grudge and thoroughly ignore someone's existence for decades. So, I kept the boundaries in place and protected myself.

In addition, sharing my story on Life Beyond Parenting has helped tremendously. For the first time in years, I feel heard and understood. Writing about my story, owning it, seeing all I went through clearly laid out and acknowledging how I survived has proven quite cathartic. Empowering even. And I still have hope.

Featured photo by Anna Dziubinska on Unsplash