I Hate Father's Day

I know my posts are usually more positive than this one will be. So before you read it, please remember: I AM HAPPY! I am so thankful for my life, and I am still the positive person you know. But I don't feel I'd be helping myself (or anyone else reading that is in a similar situation) by leaving out my negative emotions. With all that said, I just want you to know that I HATE FATHER'S DAY.

For the record, I love Father's Day as it relates to my father, because I don't think it's humanly possible to love my father any more than I do (same goes for my mom). I hate Father's Day as it relates to my child. It's around this time of year that I have it shoved in my face that I do not live the "normal" lifestyle, in that Emma doesn't have, or even know her father. Commercial after commercial comes on television, images of the "perfect family" with the father swinging his daughter around in the air, giving his children hugs and kisses, and beautifully decorated cards and presents. They are adorable commercials, and pictures of what I wish Emma had.

I think what makes this time of year most difficult is that it is a constant reminder of Bobby. It reminds me that as much as I made the decision to leave, he didn't really give me much of a choice. He was gone way before I left. As time goes by, I realize that he did that as a favor to me. I don't think he loves me any less than he did before, and I don't think it was ever his intention to hurt me. That doesn't mean it makes it any easier. And it certainly doesn't make me any less angry at him. However, I still miss him pretty much every day. I know that's strange to say about someone who hurt you so badly, but when you know it wasn't their intent, and even worse, that they weren't in control of their own thoughts or actions, you can't really hate them. I can't really explain it, nor do most of of my family and friends understand it. They just hope he moves to Antarctica. I, on the other hand, can still feel his hands on my cheeks; I can see the way he used to look at me when he thought I wasn't watching; I can still hear him singing silly songs to me when I was mad, and daring me not to laugh or smile; I honestly and truly lost my best friend.

I guess what this time of year reminds me is that I still have a lot of healing to do. I've healed enough to put him in a place in my heart where he can't hurt me anymore - and I have to come to terms with the fact that this means we can never be the "family" I see in the commercials. I can love him forever, and I'm pretty confident I will, but I can never trust him again. And there is nothing left for us without trust. So I guess I'm fighting a three-part battle: I have to heal the way I feel about him abandoning Emma, I have to heal the way I feel about him abandoning me, and I have to heal the way I feel about him denying both of us a family. It's a big hurt to heal, and I guess I can thank Father's Day for reminding me that I'm not quite there yet.

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**As a note, I'd like to say that it's GREAT consolation that Emma has my father (and mother!) and my brothers in her life. They provide her with amazing male role models and she would not be the same wonderful, caring, creative, dramatic, wild child that she is without their guidance***