I haven’t spoken to my father in seven years. The last contact I had with him, he told me to never call him again unless I felt like I needed a father again in my life. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I never made contact with him again. There was other issues leading up to this blowout, from both sides of the table, but I was stubborn, a trait I take after from him, and refused to beg for his forgiveness if he couldn’t ask for mine. I slightly regretted my actions, but like I said, it took both of us to create this mess.
However, shortly before Thanksgiving, my father made contact with me in order to tell me he learned he had cancer. A very nasty cancer that he has little hope in beating. I was met with a tidal wave of emotions: regret, sorrow, depression, sadness, just to name a few. I offered to drive down the weekend after Thanksgiving, however he told me he wanted to wait to see how he responded to chemo. I agreed and we discussed about getting together around Christmas time. Said he would call me the following week.
I never got a call from him. I gave him the week, then another. I tried calling him, only to find his cellphone off or ringing but ending up in voicemail. I left messages. I called back. Still, no answer. So I finally made my Christmas plans with my mother since I doubted he would call me back.
And I was partially right. He never called me, however his peach of a wife did. She had to leave me a voicemail since I missed the call. I called her back, was greeted with her voicemail. No return call. Called again another day. No answer, didn’t bother to leave a message that time.
Three days before Christmas, my stepsister contacted me. However it wasn’t a friendly chit chat or anything. Instead she screamed at me, put me down, and called me a bunch of vile names. When I got off the phone with her, I was left with feeling depressed and, well honestly, a little suicidal. She told me I didn’t try enough, that I was a horrible person for not rushing down to his side (even though I offered!), and that I had no heart. I ran to my mother, in tears. Luckily, she cheered me up and told me that I shouldn’t bother myself with them if that’s how they were going to act.
Christmas Day, not even before noon, my stepsister texts me and continues to blast me with her hatred of my person. I simply told her I planned on calling him later in the day. Which I did, twice, because he failed to answer the first time. All in all, the convo was strained and short, but he told me he was glad I called him.
That was the last time I spoke to him. I have tried contacting him, but it only goes to voicemail. I leave messages, but he doesn’t return them. I know he is sick, but he told me he feels fine somedays. Why not call me those days?
However, his peach of a wife has called me. Drunk and cursing at me through my voicemail. She tells me how horrible I am, so on and so on. It’s annoying and depressing. I don’t answer her calls, simply for that reason.
I just want to talk to my dad. I pray and hope the next time I call he’ll answer, but I know full well I am just setting myself up for failure. I’m afraid I might just snap one of these days and leave his a voicemail of my feelings: That I am tired of his family treating me like crap, even though I try to have a convo with him. That I am tired of trying only to be met with stone-cold silence from him. I know he is sick, but he could try, even a tiny bit.
My birthday is coming up. I really hope he will call me that day, just to show he has some form of heart. I doubt it though. Seven years is a long time to forgive and forget.