Reminiscing AGAIN.

A journal entry tonight by one of the loveliest souls in J-land started me thinking about my daughter.  She hadn't even been born yet when the sperm donor (to speak the name gives him power, so it is not spoken here) went to the store for a pack of cigarettes and never came back.  Seems the circus was more appealing than staying put and being a responsible father to his daughter.  PLUS he was a saggitarius. 

A year and a half later, I met the man who was to be her real dad, and after we married, we decided to wait until she was older to tell her about her biological father.

When she was almost four, she started drawing pictures of graveyards and tombstones and little girls crying.  Needless to say, I was very concerned and asked her...What does this mean, honey?

Her exact words were, That's where my real, real daddy is.  He died.

My little sister, who is three years older than my Beth, had spilled the beans, but she didn't want Beth to feel thrown away so she told her *he* was dead.  And so we explained to her as best we could that her real, real daddy was not in the cemetery and that her daddy was Jim now.

The years went and the questions came.  Why did he leave?  And the answers:  It had nothing to do with you, or me...He just couldn't stay in one place.  And it was true.

I would prefer to tell my daughter the truth than a lie.

Why didn't he want to see me?  (I did not say, because he's a coward.)

Does he know my name? (He does.)

Do I look like him?  (you have his eyebrows).

Do I have brothers and sisters? (I did not say, all over the eastern US).

I couldn't answer all of her questions.  Five years ago, her biological grandfather died.  They had never tried to see my daughter, either, but she knew their names and when she found out he had passed away, she went to the funeral home.  And met her father, face-to-face.

"It took guts for you to walk into a place where you didn't know anybody.  You got that from me," he told her.

"No.  I got that from my mother."

I don't blame her for wanting to get a jab in.  But since she was all grown up, sperm donor decided he wanted to have a relationship with her.  He told her he didn't know I was pregnant.

....He was at the doctor with me when I found out.  He bought my prenatal vitamins.

He told her I was too good for him.

At no time did he take responsibility for leaving.  And so, they became close and cozy, and she had the dream dad she had longed for when Jim grounded her, told her no, or when he did any other parental thing that wasn't easy. 

And suddenly, somehow, the facade began to slip.  He didn't want to be daddy anymore.  That poor kid saw him as he is, and it broke her heart.

Some life lessons are hard.  I hope she knows, it was never her.  It was him.  There simply isn't a responsible bone in his body.  And while it hurt (you know it did), she had the luxury of saying - I have a dad, thanks.  His name is Jim.

She wasn't unloved and lacking for a father, after all.