The day he left

It had been years since my parents were an actual couple. They still lived together, but there was no relationship. I guess you can say they were still together for the kids. They slept in the same room, but didn’t share a bed. Mom slept in the bed and dad slept on the floor. There really was no need; they both could’ve slept in the bed considering mom worked days and dad worked nights. They were never home at the same time. Dad would get home just in time to take me to school and he’d still be around to pick me up. Dad and I would go for ice cream every day after school, especially if I was sick. I always got ice cream when I was sick.

It's no secret. I am not ashamed. I was totally, big-time "Daddy's Little Girl." He bought me everything I wanted without really spoiling me, and whenever my mom or sister were going to punish me, I just had to run to him and he wouldn't let them touch me. He didn't even like it when my grandmother put me to wash the dishes. He always carried me off the milk crate set-up so I could reach the faucet, and she would put me back up there, and he would take me off...and so on and so on. He only ever raised his voice to me once and I can't really remember why.

It was early one morning and my sister had been trying to get me up for school, but I wouldn't budge. I was pretending to be asleep even though I wasn't. The phone rang. My sister answered and called out to my dad. He spoke a few words into the receiver, hung up and left, never to come back. All the while I was pretending to be asleep because I couldn't say good-bye. I knew he was leaving. I had known for days. No one had to tell me. I was 9 years old and I knew my father was leaving us.

He came by a few months later to get the rest of his things. It was around Christmas so he gave me $60 and even gave my little brother $10 even though he wasn't even 2 years old yet. Of course I pocketed the $10. What was a 2 year old going to do with $10?

For years we knew nothing about his whereabouts, and when we did know, we didn't go see him. When I was in high school and college, I would go see him to get money. I was his little girl and he always gave me money. I think that's why my sister resents him. He never helped her the way he helped me. She'd ask for money for college and he wouldn't give her any. I asked, and he handed it over. I was his little girl.

I don't visit my father. I don't call or write. If he calls me, sometimes I answer, sometimes I don't. He sends a Christmas card, but I don't send him one. My mom talks to him more than we do. My sister flat out refuses to speak to him. I love my father, but he has not been a part of my life since the day he left. For years he couldn't even get my age right. I know that when he dies, I will be completely shattered, but yet, I don't do anything to include him in my life.

I lived for my father. He was everything to me. And when he left, I was never the same. It's safe to say I have abandonment issues. I'm afraid of being left again and so I sabotage my relationships, I hurt myself before they can hurt me. Even though I'm fully aware of this, I've never figured out how to stop doing it, how to get past it.