This time of year is always a tad difficult for me. Don’t get me wrong, I totally get into Christmas but every Christmas I am met with some struggle or challenge. This year it is divorce. And that’s even okay because I surrounded by so much love and support.
But every year for almost thirty years, I have waited for you. I have longed for a Christmas where we could celebrate together. And I have noticed that this waiting for you has made my expectations in other things in my life a little unrealistic. Hope is held tightly each day and that makes it hard for me to let go of a lot of things. Even when they are staring me in the face screaming the words “LET GO.”
You have made it clear on numerous occasions that the word “father” does not fall in your job description. And still, I continue to wait. It has tarnished many a relationship, made mountains out of molehills, and ultimately screwed with my patience. I am kind of sick of it really. Not in an “I hate you” way. I never could, I don’t even really know you (even though I kind of do know you because in a lot of ways we are the same person). It is more of a “time to grow up and get on with it” kind of way. I have learned so much this year from so many of my own missteps. And I think this is the first Christmas I have stopped waiting.
My life is changing. I am changing. I mean, I am still me. And whatever I can positively draw from my years of waiting is still a part of me. I just think it is time to face the music. It is time to sing my finale. No encore. Just gracefully tip toe off stage and back to my life. A life that YOU are the one missing out on. Because, my god, no matter the challenges, my life still stays and grows more beautiful every single day.
This of course does not mean that if you called me tomorrow I would hang up the phone. I would welcome you into your grand daughter’s life with open arms and a big smile and all the hugs you could dream of. I am just not giving that notion any more thought once I click Publish. It really is all on you now.
I love you, Dad. Merry Christmas. Don’t wait up. I am not coming home.