The Father I Wish I Didn't Have

It's true; the only father I've ever known for my entire life is a crack addict. I even have an entire blog devoted to that hell, A Daughter's Journey. Things have been quiet over there for a while because I haven't had a lot to blog about. Naturally, I knew it was an eerie calm before the storm simply because of those ESP factor "gut feelings" I tend to have.

Last Thursday, driving to show my mom our new house, my cell phone rang. It was a number that I didn't recognize, but thought that it was our realtor's broker calling because I expected him to. Unfortunately, it was my father, who I haven't spoken to in a very, very long time.

My first thought was that his speech sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles. My mom listened to him speak long enough to tell me that's exactly how he sounds when he is high. Despite my knowing better, I listed for 15 minutes to what he had to say simply because I could not get a word in edge-wise. I listened to all sorts of shit about how he'll take responsibility for actually smoking crack; however, it was because of things that we all did (mom, brothers, and I) that led him there in the first place. He kept pressuring me for a timeline as to how long it would take to forgive him, to which I responded that there is no timeline. He restated everything he told me in our last conversation many months ago, most of which I don't believe in the first place. I listened to him the entire way and finally hung up because I could take no more. He then proceeded to leave 2 voicemail messages for me, yet again restating the same things over and over.

I was instantly sick to my stomach. The not knowing is the hardest part. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he is clean. Maybe I should give him a chance. Maybe he's just one of those people who are arrogant assholes at the core and they can't help that. Thursday night, I watched a TiVo'd version of Oprah that was all about forgiveness (which further guilted me in to thinking that maybe I should give him a chance and hear him out). The not knowing about his using status is the hardest part for my heart; however, my brain always knows better. I knew that if I gave it 2 or 3 days without calling me and respecting my personal space and my right to think things through before calling him back (if indeed I decided to do so), things might be ok. I also knew that his typical pattern is that if he does not receive a call back in 2-3 days, he leaves a string of messages on our cell phone voicemails that contain the most hateful words anyone could possibly hear.

In his typical fucking arrogant asshole fashion exactly three days from the first call, I had the pleasure of experiencing not one, not two, not three, but FOUR God-awful messages from the man I once called my father. Because I am so full of rage at the moment, I have decided to type them out here. These messages, although completely heartbreaking and full of hate, will help to keep me grounded and remind me why I have made the decisions I have to keep him out of my life and that of my husband and children. Most of these messages are barely understandable and probably make little sense to my readers here, but I had to get it out before bed tonight. All of this is just full of lies and hate.

Message #1 - Thursday, June 12, 2008 @ 4:44 p.m.

Becky, please call me back when you get a chance because I really need to talk to you. I really do love you and need to talk to you. At least we need to talk. I’m telling you what, when my mom and my dad passed away, I wished I would’ve talked to them, told them I loved them more, and spent more time with them. You and your brothers are making a big mistake by not talking to me. I want you to know the things I went through too, ok? I pray for your mom every day, I ask God to watch over her, and I forgive her for the lies she told about me that weren’t true.

How do you think it felt for me being in jail for 3 months for lies someone told about me? I wanted you to know that. You know, I used to keep a trash bag in my cell when I was in jail for when I had enough and I would just put it over my head.

Your Uncle Jimmy wrote me in jail and he said, “For someone being in jail for something they didn’t do, I never heard any words of hurt or revenge from you.” I don’t. I understand how mad your mother was.

I understand how you hurt, Becky. You need time to heal. I really would like you to call me back. I hope you call me back, but even if you don’t, I want you to ask your mother if it’s ok to call her and you can call and leave me her phone number.

I love you with all my heart. I want you to know the truth about everything. I did what I did. I’m sorry, I’m responsible, but that’s me. I know you cried about me. I felt like a butthead. I was hiding in a crack house when my wife and son were driving down the street looking for me. I was ashamed of myself. It was really hard on me too, ok. There were a lot of things said about me that weren’t true. I’m going to let your mom talk responsibility for that one.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Remember that always. I hope you’ll forgive me, ok. Thank you.

Message #2 - Thursday, June 12, 2008 @ 5:20 p.m.

Hey, Becky. I’m sorry to keep bothering you. I really did enjoy talking to you. I’d like to talk to you and listen to what you have to say and I’d like you to listen to what I have to say. It’s just between you and me. I never lied to you and I never will. I don’t want you to tell anyone what I say and I won’t tell anyone what you say. Everything I say is truthful. I asked Clyde to talk to all you guys and tell you that I never threatened any of you. I don’t know if he ever talked to you. I was really hurt too. I’m sorry I hurt you and anybody. I made a mistake. I do love you. You did try the best of everyone to help me and I really did appreciate it. I fell down, ok. The addiction thing is something that I didn’t understand until I did this stuff and that’s when I understood addiction and it’s something way different than you think it is. You really tried and I love you. If you get a chance, call me back. I really love talking to you, and I do want to talk to you. Please don’t yell at me and me and I won’t yell at you. What we say is between us. Tell the boys I love them. Tell Rob I said hi, too. There was never any animosity between us and there shouldn’t have been. I’m sorry I made you cry and that I hurt you. I can’t say anything more than that. It hurts me so bad that you guys don’t talk to me. I told the doctor the other day that I should just jump off a bridge or jump in front of the bus or something, but with my luck, I’d just get hurt more. Please just call me back. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Message #3 - Sunday, June 15, 2008 @ 8:58 a.m.

Hi, Becky. This is your dad. I just want to tell you, you know, I’ve never said anything to you, and I forgive you for writing the judge and telling him to give me the maximum time for a lie. I never did anything to your mother. You know, I knew you knew I lied all the time because I never lied to you ever in my whole life. You’re the worst daughter a man could ever have. You owe me an apology. You are mean to your kids; you don’t want nothing from me. Rob is still borrowing my tools and Joe for the cell phone that him and mom put in my name that they didn’t tell me about. I was real rotten to him too. I guess since he sends his presents back to me for his daughter, I guess he didn’t want nothing me. I guess he’s not using my tools or that shit, huh?

It’s about time your mother told everyone the truth. I forgive her. She’s rotting in hell for keeping my kids and grandchildren away from me. You’d better grow up in life. You know I love you forever. I never want to hear from you again until you apologize to me. You’ve been told a big lie and you believed it and wrote that crap bout me. How did I hurt your mother when I was the only one hurt? Oh boy, I guess I can’t beat up your mother, huh? I didn’t even ruffle her dress. If I would have stayed there, they would’ve arrested Michael because I was the only one who was hurt. Becky – it’s about time you grow up. Don’t be a hypocrite about being a Christian either, because you know nothing about forgiveness. I apologized for what I did. Your mom put us in this position. Did your mother tell you about a $3,000 bill that she never paid? Ask your Uncle Paul about it because I found the subpoena for it on the table. You need to find out the truth about some of this stuff. You think you know everything. You think she’s so innocent that you won’t talk to your father. I should’ve left your mother years ago for how awful you and Michael are. You’re rotten as hell and I hate you.

Message #4 - Sunday, June 15, 2008 @ 10:17 a.m.

Hey, I was just wondering. I’ll pray this doesn’t happen; that God doesn’t give you the maximum sentence for the lies you believed about your father and how you’re treating your father and the lies you believed that weren’t true. I hope your children will forgive you for being such a bad mother and keeping them away from their grandfather for lies you didn’t even know about. Maybe if someone said something bad about you I’ll never talk to you again and write the judge and tell him to give you the maximum sentence. You did it to me, Becky. I want you to understand in your wildest dreams, if you ever once decide your mother and how you and anyone in the world and how I could possibly attack your mother, you’re retarded. But I still forgive you and I love you, but you are rotten as hell.

Message #5 - Sunday, June 15, 2008 @ 10:18 a.m.

Oh, Beck. I just want to tell you, you know, how happy you would be if you saw Rob once a month but when he came home, he had to go help your mother. How trilled he would be. You did that to me every time, you and mother. I came home once a month and she had to go babysit for you or do something for you. Boy was I happy.

Message #6 - Sunday, June 15, 2008 @ 10:20 a.m.

Hey, Beck. Remember when they kicked you out of school and the teacher said all those bad things about you. I should’ve never listened to one word you said and told the principal to kick you out of school and that’s where you belonged! HA!