Memories of a Man I Knew

Challenge: Write about your relationship with your father, whatever it might be.

By: @PRS

1

My father showed up regularly. He loved me then.

2

My father showed up less. He knew the only way he could hurt my mother was by hurting me. She had broken the crimson cushion beneath his breast, and now it was his turn to break mine.

6

I had been awarded student of the month. Excitement poured from my beaming body as I saw my mother, grandmother, and aunt enter the building just moments before the ceremony.

I was showered with hugs, kisses, and gifts. I had been holding onto my mother when I saw him; a man that looked vaguely familiar. I struggled to guess who he was as he approached with flowers in hand. I turned to my mother and asked her, "mommy, is that my dad?"

She forced a smile upon her full lips and said, "yes!"

I smiled brightly and hugged him tightly. It's funny how children love their parents no matter how unfamiliar they are with them.

8

I had been hit by a car on my way from the ice cream truck. I laid in a hospital bed with my mom looking over me. My father had come, but he wasn't actually there. His eyes were on his watch.

"Daddy," I said. "If you have somewhere to be, you can go. It's okay."

And with that, he was gone.

12

I was seeing my father more regularly; he'd show up about three times a year at least. I felt like this could be it; this could be the beginning of him and I forming a beautiful relationship.

14

My father had gotten a divorce and only told me once he had gotten a new girlfriend. He took me on what he called a "family trip." He was acting as if he had been there; as if he had co-parented with my mother for fourteen years and helped raise me.

I decided to talk to him. It was late, and I could not sleep with it on my mind. I climbed down the stairs and went into his room. The conversation didn't go well and ended with me running out in tears. I went into the bathroom instead of into the guest room with the fear that he would come after me to continue the conversation. When he never did came for me, I was, ironically, more hurt.

15

I cried over him from time to time.

I hated him from time to time.

16

I did not think of him much.

17

"Dad, I just want to have a good relationship with you. You know?"

There is a long silence before he says, "well, what's stopping you?" He's smiling. He truly didn't get it, and could I blame him? He never had a father, but is that an excuse? I am not sure. I am just silent.

18

He tells me that he is proud of me; proud that I finished high school. For some reason this makes me smile.

19

I ask for his help. He is better off than my mother, and I wanted to go to college. He tells me he'll try, but he's not sure if he can. I tell him anything will help.

I get a scholarship, but I do not tell him. I want to see if he would help. I want to see what he would do. I tell him the deadline. I tell him that I may be kicked out of the university if I do not pay by this time.

The deadline passes.

He never calls; not to say he couldn't help out, not to see if I was okay.

I decide that I am done.

I will not try. I do not care or maybe I do; I am just to exhusted to even notice.