What if I had had my Dad in my Life as a Child?

I attended my Dad Joe's funeral Friday, and I'm here to tell the story. Instead of telling the story of how my half-brother tried to make me feel insignificant - even during my Dad's funeral ceremony - I'll tell the story of how the relationship that wasn't was, and how I think it's made an amazing difference in my life.

As a little girl, I fantasized ALL the time about how amazing it would be to have my Dad in my life. A couple of my friends had Dad's, and I just could not understand why I did not. I've accepted God's divine plan at this point, but on my bad days, it's still hard to accept what I lacked as a child.

-- I wanted to give my Dad all the crappy cards we were forced to create in elementary school to celebrate Father's Day.
-- I wanted to eat with my Dad at the Girl Scout's Father/Daughter luncheons.
-- I wanted my Dad's honorable name to display on my report card in that blank "Parent" field just below my Momma's.
-- I wanted my Dad to scare all the boys that gathered the nerve up to come to our house. I mean, my Mom did it, but it just wasn't the same.
-- I wanted my Dad to teach me guy stuff: fishing, boxing, killing bugs. Shit, scratching, I don't care!
-- At every parent-teacher conference, when the subject came up, I would've been happy as heck if my Dad would've been able to chime in when the snotty teacher asked my Momma if "a man was in the home."

Honestly, I just wanted some normalcy; not normal to my neighborhood or my little impoverished city where about 80% of the households were led by women (with no men), but normal to TV: Cosby Show, Leave it to Beaver, Family Ties, A.L.F., well damn, even The Simpsons.

So, I've come to grip with my childhood. I'm 34 and a Christian, so I've let go of the unfairness of not having my Dad in my life.

Besides, since the age of 18, my Dad has been amazing. He truly became my best friend.

-- My Dad knew that I got off at 5pm to go home, he'd call me 4 or 5 times a week and talk to me until I got home.
-- I almost dropped out of college, but my Dad came through with tuition to keep me in.
-- My Dad was amazing with my boisterous, hyper, always sports-minded sons - keeping them distracted for my entire trip to Texas by playing, football, catch, and "boy games" with them.
-- I could count on my Dad for giving me an honest insight on what made men tick. . He was an old Baptist minister, but he did not pull any punches. He always called a spade a spade.
-- When my Mom passed away, my Dad was my rock. I'm not touchy-feely, but I happen to know that if he did not hold me so tight during the entire ordeal, I would've fallen apart and just faded away. .
-- My Dad said he was sorry. He said he was sorry for hurting me. And that heartfelt apology, along with my faith in God, made the sting of him making me feel invisible as a child wear away.

The relationship with my dad that I was able to build over the last 15.5 years has taught me that God works in his own time. He truly is right on time, even if while you are going through it feels like you will not make it through. My Dad showed up in my life when I needed a Dad in my life; even though at the time I thought I was grown and did not realize it. He STILL helped me to grow into the woman I am today: strong, affectionate, forgiving, confident, humble. These are the attributes he brought to the table.. and I was able to absorb from the warmth he gave off.

It's not that my Momma did not do a kick-ass job raising 6 kids. She did. But after existing as a child the way that I did, my focus is on making sure I am not an obstacle to relationship between my children and their father.

I can't force it, but I'll never stand in the way. I won't be the cause of my child one day asking the question I can't help but to ask myself, "What if I had had my Dad in my Life as a Child?"

I'll do my part. The rest is up to Dude.

The New Years Resolutions that Will Not Be

What a weird beginning to 2010. I'm so blah. . not feeling like I've shed the grief of 2009 and accepted all the new opportunities that are awaiting in 2010. Right now, I'm really just fakin' it 'til I make it.

As I always do, I started my list of New Years Resolutions. I do not remember anymore what #1 was, but #2 was to spend more time with my Dad. "More Time" as opposed to seeing him twice a year despite his constant pleas for more time. Arrrrrrrrgh. .

Joseph James Johnson, my Dad, passed away at 10 am on January 31, 2009 of prostate cancer. I was not there. I was at home planning for a party. I now hurt, and I carry a lot of regret with me in 2010. I know I will forget this mistake, but I will not forget the lesson, "Don't put off to tomorrow. . " I'm 34, but still learning the same damn lesson.. "

I remember which New Years resolution pertained to my Dad because that's as far as I got on the list. At the time I started, it was really important to record my list. I wanted to commit to the entire list, so I started it as a blog posting. Then, something happened. Maybe a child whined, or a friend text messaged, or the phone rang. I don't really know, but some distraction took me away from the list of New Year To Dos, and I never picked it back up.

And that's the way my life as gone so many times I could not count the instances to save my life. I've made a realization that I have to do something; something life-changing and long overdue. Then, I've gotten distracted by the details of life itself.

Well, what I won't do is to ever pen/type/speak another list of New Years resolutions. What I will do is to live/love/laugh for today. I will say "I love you" to the people I love with every opportunity. I will spend more time with the people I love and less with those that I'm iffy about. I will cherish the gifts that God has given me if only as a way to give him additional praise. I will not procrastinate. I will do more for others, even if it's an inconvenience to me. These are not New Years Resolutions, you see. These statements are now parts of my life's mission.

I will do better.

No "Goodbye Daddy" for me

My Dad is dying of prostate cancer.

It's a frustrating fact that I've known for some time, but the desire to be sad about it became even more intense two days ago when I called to check in on him and his hospice nurse told me that he was so deeply drugged with Morphine that at this point, he has about a couple of days to live.

If it were my Mother, I would've hung up the phone, packed up the kids and the car, and got on the road to Texas. But it's my Dad, and there are obstacle -- really ridiculous, frustrating, hateful obstacles that should not be in my way. . This has just gone too far.

Most Recent History of The Obstacle:

My Dad got really sick just before Thanksgiving. All indications were pointing to eminent death. He was delirious. He weighed in at 85 lbs. He had a crazy high fever. And he could not get out of bed. So, I went to my hometown, Port Arthur Texas, four days before Thanksgiving to be with him. I needed to say goodbye before anything happened to the man that it took me half a lifetime to finally get an audience with. The man I'd day dreamed about as a child, but did not get to know until adulthood.

Going to my Dad's bedside turned out to be a horrible mistake. It killed a lot of childhood fantasies that I'd concocted and held onto into adulthood to hold on to the sense I'd made of my life. For example, while I was at my Dad's home over the Thanksgiving break I learned the following:

• My Dad had acknowledged me to several members of his family (including his late wife), but never to his only son.
• My Dad's son has known of my existence and resented me to the extreme.
• My Dad's son is powerful and mean.
• My Dad's son hates me.

These insights weighed heavily on me. They still do.

As a child, I envisioned a day when I'd be reunited with my Dad, the proud Reverend, and he would bring me into his big, beautiful home to live with his beautiful wife and their son. In this fantasy, my Dad's new family would love me the way I loved them. Why wouldn't they? We all had the same last name, and I look just like him. To a small child, this fantasy made a whole lot of sense.

Of course, in reality, I saw my Dad about 6 times my entire childhood. By the time I turned 18, I had abandoned all hope of him ever wanting to have anything to do with me. That's just the way it was.

Then, a small miracle happened. One that I'd prayed for from as early as I can remember: As I packed the car up to move to Arkansas after graduation, my Dad pulled up in front of my Momma's house and told me that he wanted us to have a relationship. It was a true indication of the goodness of God to a woman with the heart of a girl and the never-ending desire to have her father in her life.

From that day on, me and my Dad have had a really amazing relationship.

• Me and my Dad have talked 4 or 5 times a week on the phone.
  
• I've spent countless nights with my Dad in his home.
  
• My Dad has been an incredible grandfather to my children; especially my sons who love him dearly.
  
• My teenager daughter has spent the summer with him.
  
• I attended his50th class reunion with him and my two uncles; which is one of the highlights of my life (pic of my Dad and his brothers at a reunion event I attended with them)
  

A little late coming, but my relationship with my Dad has been all that I had dreamed of as a child. Even better because he has become my best friend.

Fast forward to today. My Dad is dying and I've decided not to go home and be with him because if I do I'd face a very angry half-brother that will do whatever he can to make sure I feel like the outsider he's determined that I am.

When I was there for Thanksgiving, he said, "I will not spend one moment under the same roof with this woman. I do not know her, and I do not want to know her. She is not my family." Daggers to my heart.

I'm stuck now. I'm hurting because we are in the last days of my Dad's life, and I'm too afraid to return to Port Arthur to tell him goodbye. It would mean that I'd have to face my Dad's son and his look of disgust, and just don't have the strength. I will not let anyone take away the memories we've built over the last 15 years. These wonderful memories that I cling to that warm my heart every time I think of my old man. These wonderful memories that are just not strong enough to erase the childhood of disappointment and grief I suffered as a result of not having my Dad in my life. I just can't let him take the good memories away from me. There are not enough of them to shield me from the bad that wait just underneath.