Do Over

Shortly after my tenth birthday, I saw my dad for what would be our last visit for the following fourteen years.  My birthday is on January 19th, his on the 25th.  I always felt a little special for being born so close to my dad's birthday.  Like I owe one to God for the honor.  Ridiculous and awesome, I know.  But I truly adored my dad.  That year my granny took us to surprise him at his office.  We brought a cake and some goofy gifts, like a Miss Piggy dress up cardboard doll.  We loved watching the Muppet Show as a family.  Which I guess explains why I thought that was the perfect thing to give him.  My sisters and I were so excited to see him and he received us with a kind, but worn out love.  Too say my mother and father had irreconcilable differences would be an enormous understatement.  There were deep, deep wounds that we, as children, could not possibly fathom.  About a week after his birthday, I got a birthday card and a gold starfish necklace in the mail.  A belated birthday gift.  I still have it.

Over those lost years, no one told us what had actually happened to my dad.  His family acted like they knew, but wouldn't tell.  My sisters and I didn't know for sure if he was dead or alive.  We would imagine what might have happened to him.  Maybe he was a spy.  Maybe he made a bunch of money and split.  Maybe he was homeless.  We just didn't know.  It was awful.  Hopeless.  The more years that passed, the more normal it felt.  A terrible reality.  A girl needs a dad to look after her when she's dating.  Especially when her mom is not available either.  My legally blind granny was the only one fending for us.  Time's got really tough, lean, embarrassing.

I was so ashamed that my parents never showed up to my school or sports events.  I made excuses for them to save face.  As a senior in high school, I made it into the top 5 finalists for Homecoming Queen.  My mom came out for the rally where they announced the winner for queen.  I was shocked.  There was a parade and a half time special for the homecoming court at the football game that night.  After the rally when another girl was named queen, I overheard my mom tell my granny that she was going home. When my granny asked her about the evening events, my mom replied, "It'd be different if she was queen."  I was crushed.

I did have a couple of families that adopted me and looked out for me.  I still feel so incredibly blessed to have been taken in by them.  It was in this era that I met my best friend Shay.  Someone who has always been there for me and loved me as I am.

One month shy of fourteen years, I got a phone call from my sister telling me my paternal grandfather had died.  Time froze.  It was the week of Christmas.  We all knew what this could mean.  Were we about to see our dad?  The funeral was postponed until after Christmas.  Christmas day was rather placid.  We quietly opened our gifts and ate our food and wondered what was going to happen.

The morning of grandpa's funeral, three of us got ready at granny's house.  We were down right giddy and anxious.  It was in the air.  We had no idea what was about to take place, but we knew.  It's so hard to describe.  We were hurried as if we actually had an appointment with dad.  Veronica drove us to Edy's apartment.  She drove like a bat outta hell.  Lynn and I laughed and joked that if she didn't slow down there would be more than one funeral that day.  We were so nervous.  But we also had a giant chip on our shoulder.  We were hurt.  We brought a real fuck off, you can't hurt us anymore attitude with us.  We had all of our armor on, ready for battle.  We waited for Edy for what felt like an eternity.  We didn't want to be the first people there, but we certainly didn't want to walk in late either. Finally the four of us were together in the car.  Going into whatever lay ahead together, united.  Four good Irish sisters ready to kick any and all ass necessary.  The timing of the impending events could not have been scripted better if it were for a movie.

Edy lived about three turns away from the funeral home.  Veronica just about put her car on two wheels for each of them.  She parked right in front.  As we pulled in, we could see our uncle standing outside of the door with some of the other mourners.  We immediately began making sarcastic jokes and laughing as we got out of the car.  From that moment everything actually went into a fog.  I remember getting out of the car, turning to close the door, when we spotted the white Lincoln Towncar driving toward us.  One of us quipped, "who the hell is that?" To which we all laughed.  As the car passed by us to park, I experienced one of the strangest moments of my life to this day.  I don't know if I said it or not, but I think I said it.  All I can remember with certainty is hearing the words, "That's our dad."  We were in absolute shock.  He parked the car next to us and got out with the others that rode with him.  The four of us girls stood in unity in the street, looking at him.  We were speechless and just stood there in disbelief.  The day we had waited so long for had actually arrived and we were breathing in its moment.  No one knew what to do.  Would he accept us?  Should we forgive him?  I can only imagine what he was experiencing.  I finally said simply, "Hi dad."  I moved toward him and before I knew it the five of us were in an embrace.  It felt as though a curse had been broken.  Something had been supernaturally mended.  Forgiveness that needed no words.  Love.  When our hug ended, he said to us through a cracked voice, "Let's go see my dad."  It was really something indescribably powerful to walk into that funeral home together.

After the funeral, we went back to my grandpa's house for the reception.  My dad gathered the four of us girls, told us why he did what he did and apologized.  It was the first time in fourteen years that someone spoke straight with us and told us what actually happened.