Shot, Truth, And Reconciling With My Dad

My relationship with my father is not what could be called normal. He grew up without a dad, which impacted him in ways that I could not understand. And I am gay, which put an invisible barrier between us because he could not understand.

Part of this was also because of my mother. She told me during their divorce that my dad preferred my sisters over me. "You know, he wanted you to be a girl. He was disappointed when you were a boy."

It was reinforced by him doting on them and forcing me to do chores for scraps of money. It was like a gender-reversed Cinderella.

"You need to work for what you want," he said to me on multiple occasions when I asked for something.

In seventh grade, my class was going to Chicago. I really wanted to go and asked my dad if he would pay for the trip. He went with his common refrain but also added that he had just paid for a field trip for my sister.

My mother's point was coming in crystal clear. When she and my stepdad came through and gave me the money for the trip, they became my heroes.

After that, I decided that I would not be spending every other weekend with my dad. It was the beginning of me barely speaking to him at all.

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Over the years, we have talked in fits and spurts. We were never able to overcome the obstacles between us, but neither of us was willing to throw in the towel and call it a day.

One day, we began talking a bit more, never about anything of importance. None of the conversations were designed to heal our broken relationship. But a start was a start.

"Dad, I'm moving to New York City," I said to him after the decision was made.

"Good luck," he said.

It was two little words, but they packed a punch. Initially, I viewed them as a challenge. A little dig that he didn't believe that I would be able to be successful in the Big Apple.

My anger fueled me; I was going to make it there because he didn't believe that I could. There was no way that I would come back with my tail between my legs and let him be right.

I did find success in the city.

When my sister got engaged, I promised her that I would be at her wedding. There was no way that I would miss it. As the day approached, I became nervous. Both my parents would be at the wedding, and I hadn't spoken to either in about a year.

My cousin was my plus one. She was asked by two of my sisters to keep me away from my mother. And to keep an eye on me when I interacted with my father.

Like I would start drama.

"Tiger!" My dad said as he pulled me into a bear hug. He seemed genuinely happy to see me. Any residual anger I felt melted away.

He grabbed me a drink and asked about my life in NYC. Tentatively, I told him about the guy I was seeing and the work I was doing. The look on his face seemed to be genuinely impressed.

Maybe I had misjudged things.

---

During the reception, I had a few too many drinks. I can't pinpoint when I tipped over from breezy fun to drunk, but I suspect it was when I did shots of Apple Crown Royal with my siblings.

When my cousin went to get her car, Dad and I stood in front of the building talking. Mostly about the wedding but with a few "You're not getting any younger, it's time for you to settle down."

That happens when a younger sibling marries the love of her life before you have one.

Then he shocked me with what he said. "I thought you hated me."

"I did," I said.

His face showed that I hit a nerve. I explained how throughout my childhood, I felt that he loved my sisters more than me. How my mother had encouraged and even planted the idea in my head.

"I'm sorry. My dad died when I was 10 years old. I had no idea how to be a parent to you," he said by way of explanation. "And you were always so headstrong and doing your own thing."

"I did my own thing because I had to," I said.

My cousin pulled up in her car. My dad gave me a hug with a promise to continue the conversation later. I didn't believe that he would keep that promise.

As it turned out, I was wrong.

"When are you going back to New York?" he said via text.

"Next Monday," I said.

We made plans to have lunch on his day off from work. It was a good first step, but I had it in my head that he would cancel. My dad was known to make plans and then decide he didn't want to do them.

But he kept these plans. We met at a diner near where I was staying. After we were seated, he bragged to the waitress about how I was writing and making money doing it.

"I wasn't the best dad, but I tried my best," he said to me once we were alone.

"Sometimes the best isn't good enough. But I understand better why things were difficult for us," I said.

After we ordered, the conversation turned to more mundane things like work and him needing to pay his car payment. We began talking about my going back to the city and how he worried about my safety.

I assured him that I was safe. It was the first time that I felt like a parent was actually looking out for me. The feeling was nice.

We eventually said our goodbyes with a promise to talk more often.

That promise was kept. We began texting at least once a month. Sometimes it would take him a few days to answer. But this was a lesson for me to allow people to be who they are and communicate the best way they know.

There was also another lesson for me in this. Forgiveness isn't for the other person; it's for yourself. For years, I carried anger towards my father but had never let him know why I was mad. Once I let it go, I felt lighter and much happier than I had before.

None of this would have happened without that drunken conversation after my sister's wedding. And yes, he still tells me that it's time for me to have my own wedding every time we talk.