Figure out my releationship with my father

I have wishes. I am sure everyone does – I certainly didn’t invent it. I wish I really knew what he thought about me. I wish I knew who he really was and why he made the choices he did. I wish I had gone to California to meet him. I wish he had met my children. I wish I knew my sister. I think I will work on that. She seems like a wonderful person. It is too late for Michael and me, but Heather and I might be great friends/sisters. I will work on that.

Not sure what to do about how I feel. My sister sent be some pictures of him. I realize now that when I smile I look like him.

He didn’t raise me. He didn’t want me. He didn’t choose to think I was alive. He didn’t think of me from time to time because to him I never was. So he didn’t feel guilty or wonder about me or wonder what of him I carried with me in my life.

I am not bitter. I have been Loved. I have never gone without and I have never doubted that I was worth loving. I must admit that there were times growing up that I wondered a great deal about him and what of him I carried with me. Father-daughter banquets were always tough.

So anyway, I didn’t know him. My Mom raised me alone and we did fine. When I was ready (getting ready to have kids) I wondered about my medical history. My husband found him for me and I wrote a letter to him asking for information. He called me back.
He was remorseful and helpful in answering my questions. Some of them were not easy to answer I am sure. We stayed in touch on a superficial level. He never came to see me or asked if I wanted to see him. I get that I guess. I didn’t ask him either – but my reasoning was more financial and protective. When I had children I thought he would be more interested, but he wasn’t.

In my growth as a woman I asked the questions and received the answers I needed from my father. My medical history was given to me. Michael appologized for his choices as a college aged boy. We kept in touch. But he never extended himself to me. Was it just me? In reaching out I was hurt slowly. The hurt was manageable as a kid because he was more of an abstract concept. Abstract concepts can’t hurt you. I guess he didn’t exactly turn his back on me as an adult, but I wasn’t embraced. I knew that was a possibility. I knew it would be hard do develop a relationship without the past to build on. I told him in my initial letter that I didn’t want anything from him. It wasn’t true.

What every person in the world needs is to know that they are special in some way. As a wife I want to know that I am special to Paul in a way that no one else is. As a daughter I want to know that I am special in a way that only I can be. I want to know that I am worthy.

I am partly to blame for the lack of progress in out relationship. I distanced myself after he started talking crazy. He started telling me about alien ships and quitting his job to document the visitations. Was he crazy? Was it worth it?

He is dead now. I received a call from my half sister Heather a few weeks ago. I had never spoken to her before. He died alone. Now my heart is stuck. I will not ever get to finish this thing between us. What will I do to move on?