This week, I’m re-running a post from March 2011. Enjoy…
A few years ago (when Helen was a baby) I began having serious reflections surrounding my relationship with my parents, my feelings about their divorce, the way I grew up and what that meant for my family.
It’s a solid statistic that most kids who grew up with divorced parents, end up in a divorce themselves. I had become aware of that. It was something I didn’t want to face. It was much like what I’d heard about victims of abuse. Abuse perpetuates abuse. Divorce perpetuates divorce.
I wasn’t contemplating a divorce by any means. However, I began paying a lot of attention to my own interactions with my children and with my husband. I was attempting to comprehend this idea that so many people come to the conclusion that ending marriage is a good idea.
One of the catapults into this contemplation on my life was my daughter Dani and her relationship with her dad. Dani and her dad are very close. Even now, while Dani will tell me that she loves me, she ALWAYS prefers her dad to take her to a practice or to her games. When we “pair up” kids for outings in different places, Dani ALWAYS chooses…and usually gets to go with…her dad. She looks at him with stars in her eyes. Really.
I am a “Daddy’s Girl”. I say that, but for some reason, that doesn’t even sound close to how I feel about my dad. I think I probably look at him with stars in my eyes, too. I literally have memories including my mother that I can count on ONE hand before the divorce. Sure, I knew she was always around (she was a stay-at-home mom) but I remember the same recurring fights, and I remember a couple of traumatic instances from age 3-8 that include my mother…but everything else involves my dad.
Watching Dani with her dad reminded me of this relationship I had with my dad before he left. I have memories…
- there is the day he told me he was color-blind and I asked him how he knew which light meant “stop” and which light meant “go” on the traffic lights. I was probably four or five. He explained that he really disliked it when the stoplights were hung horizontally because that made things a bit more difficult for him.
- I also remember when I accompanied him to the barber shop on base and afterward, he got me an ice cream cone and told me that I shouldn’t talk about it when we got home.
- Another thing I remember is holding his hand walking somewhere and trying to come loose because I thought I was big enough to get to walk on my own (probably age 5 or 6) and he let me for a short while.
My memories, though, are dominated by my feelings. My dad was EVERYTHING to me. I remember being sad when he wasn’t at home when I was little and he would go to work or to school. I remember the elation at his arrival home every night. We played the game “Concentration” when I was very small. “Concentration” is what we called the game “Memory” and it was played with a deck of playing cards (you collected pairs as you turned over the cards). I was really good at this game for a little kid…or at least I felt like I was and my dad thought I was and I beat my older brother once in a while. I remember always feeling happy because I could impress my dad. His approval was my addiction.
You will always be my little girl.
He has said this to me numerous times in my life.
My father has four girls of his seven children. And maybe he hasn’t had to remind his other daughters of this as much as he has felt the need to remind me. But even today, when I am 37 years old and a mother of five, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear him tell me this.
Words are sometimes a double-edged sword.
You will always be my little girl
The words always made me feel good to hear him say them. I always did and will want to be his little girl
You will always be my little girl.
The words made the abandonment when I was 8 years old more difficult to process. How was I still his little girl when he wasn’t in my day-to-day life anymore?