When I was little, I was a Daddy's Girl. I think it was because I was the only girl my father had, but it worked for me. We did everything together: we went to the park, the grocery store, drove around. I remember going to the Atlanta airport and driving around, just watching the planes take off and land. My father introduced me to my favorite band, The Beatles, by playing "Yellow Submarine" all the time—both the song and the movie. We would play the board game Trouble all the time.
As time went on and I grew older, I grew apart from my father. Some of it was because I was turning into an angsty preteen, but a lot of it was also that his own father died and he was going through some tough stuff. He made some poor decisions that resulted in a lot of dramatic repercussions related to my family, and in response I decided to hate him. I told him I would never forgive him.
I would fight with my dad all the time. I refused to tell him that I loved him. I wouldn't do the things he asked me to do, like wash the dishes or switch over laundry. The only time I would talk to him would be if I needed something for school or wanted something from him.
This went on for most of my teenage years. It wasn't until right before I moved out at the age of 20 when we finally started to get along again. That was eight or nine years of me hating my father. Eight or nine years of way too much belittling, back talk and just plain cruelness that he just took because he felt like he should.
As I started to become a young adult, I realized how much I needed my father. I depended upon him for food and shelter until I was 20. When I moved out, he co-signed the lease for me. When I needed a new car, he co-signed for that too. He never failed to be there when I needed absolutely anything.
One day I was at church and the sermon was about forgiveness. I'm the type of person who doesn't hate people and doesn't hold grudges. My pastor then said that even if you're that type of person, there's always that one that you need to forgive. That was when I realized that I may have been telling my father that I loved him again and that I was talking to him regularly, but that I never told him I forgave him even though it was probably an unspoken understanding. I asked him to come over after church and I told him I forgave him. We both cried and hugged it out.
Since then, we've gone on a trip together for my new school's orientation and we're going to Philadelphia for a Paul McCartney concert in July. It's like our relationship has gone in a full circle. I can honestly say that I have a great relationship with my father, which is something I never thought I would be saying.
Happy late Father's Day, Dad. I love you.
