I met my father when I was 30. Following their tumultuous childhood marriage, my mother moved us across the country and changed our names, making it difficult to maintain a relationship. That is me being snarky to cover something. It's been interesting. He's affable and charming and highly inconsistent. I suspect he would have been the kind of father who sees you once a year, maybe at the promised time and maybe not, and he would bring a pony. Yeah, I think that would have been his gig. He's right there for my little sister (half sister, his 2nd marriage, they grew up together in more ways than one) and I am thankful for that. She needs him. Me? Well, I'm still me.
His phone number changes in 3 month cycles and I'm never quite certain exactly where he's living. I know he helped my aunt fix up her 2 unit building and sell it. During that time I had an address. A place to send Christmas cards, pictures of his granddaughter ... So now, well, I haven't the foggiest where he lives.
When we were in Florida recently, he was in Florida. Lots of conversations about coming over, coming down, coming around. Wanted to see Rio.
We ended up not seeing him.
Today is his birthday. I'm uncertain as to exactly how old he is. Sometimes, okay, often our complete lack of connection saddens me. I have a pretty poor relationship with my mother. I have no relationship with my father. While I adore my mother's most recent ex-husband I suspect I work much harder at that relationship than he does. Lately it has occurred to me that I might sort of be an orphan. An orphan who is mostly responsible for the day to day raising of a child.
So, happy birthday Father! I hope someone sings to you! I hope someone knows your favorite cake and makes you that cake and put the appropriate amount of candles on top! I hope someone tells you that you look great! I hope someone tells you to have a fantastic year! I hope someone makes you feel loved.