The worst thing about introducing yourself to adults is when they ask what your parents do. What exactly is the appropriate response when the answer is, “My mom works in retail and my dad ran out and I haven’t talked to him in four years”? I’ve been asked this so many times, and I still can’t find a graceful answer.
A few weeks ago, I was asked and simply said “... and he’s… gone” with a little flap of my hands. Cue the awkward silence and spike in anxiety. The one question that always swirls through my head is, “Why do people need to know what my parents do?” Yet another mystery of the world that I will never understand, but that’s a separate issue.
Forgiving my father for leaving is a long, therapy-soaked road ahead. If I ever got the chance to talk to him about it, I’m not sure I would take it. One thing I’ll always have a problem with is that I grew up thinking that parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally. That’s a sense of security I lost when he walked out. My mother more than made up for the loss, though. She was there for me then, she’s there for me now, and she’ll be there as long as she can be. She’s the one constant in my life.
Everyone always assumes someone’s parents are married. That’s generally the case, but it’s a hard thing to explain when it’s not. If you make a joke about not liking a particular parent, someone with two happily married parents takes personal offense. “You can’t say that! Your parents love you! They do everything for you, how can you say that you hate them?” Well, I can say it because as soon as he walked out the door without looking back, my father forfeited any love from me. Parents aren’t always happily married with little to no arguments and perfect Sunday dinners. Parents leave and children suffer.
Eventually, though, you learn to live with it. You go on with your life, making jokes about the feeling of abandonment that you have. I was lucky enough, I guess, that he didn’t leave when I was a young child. But regardless of age, being left by a parent is damaging. I haven’t completely learned how to live with it. I make jokes but still occasionally get hit with such an extreme feeling of loss and abandonment, I have to stop and take a breath. Sometimes I cry, which I’m weirdly ashamed of. But I’m learning to live with it. I’m learning to love myself even if others can’t. And that’s what really matters to me now.
Absent parents suck because they leave their children with abandonment issues, emotional instability, trust issues, and the most uncomfortable questions to answer. Thanks for that, dad.
