Where now?

Wow. What a holiday weekend this has been.

My dad and his wife got in extremely late Saturday night, so we didn't see them until late Sunday morning. They showed up with presents for all the kids; Michael got a book and the girls got Cabbage Patch Dolls.

It was so weird to see my dad again. I haven't seen him in person since my sister's wedding, six years ago. It always feels strange seeing people I haven't seen in a long time. I remember the way they used to be, only, of course, they don't look like that anymore. My dad's hair has gone almost entirely white. The skin under his eyes bags out into starkly defined pouches. The texture and color of his skin have changed, fading and thinning.

I looked for echoes of my grandfather in his son's face, but I didn't see anything. I wonder if my dad looks more like his mother's father. I'll never know. It increases how odd I feel to think of my dad looking like someone I've never known.

We had a good visit that day, all of us sitting around talking while the girls climbed all over their grandparents and soaked up the love of two additional people in their lives.

The next day we went to the zoo. The husband couldn't go and Michael wasn't interested in spending a full day with his sisters no matter what the circumstances, so it was just the five of us who left that morning. We live quite a way out, so it took us about three hours to get there, counting bus and train travel time. The girls weren't bothered at all by the length of the trip, though. It was a grand adventure to them. For me it was wonderful just to be able to go somewhere and have adults outnumbering the kids. Adults, for that matter, who loved to hold the kids so that I had a very easy and stress-free morning.

I looked over at Gabrielle at one point and saw her looking out the bus window with an expression of pure delight on her face that I hope I never forget.

At the zoo, more presents were bought, small stuffed zoo animals. The girls got to pet a cow and a donkey, or maybe it was a burro. Arielle wanted to see the snakes, while Gabrielle was just happy to run around. We'd brought the big double stroller (and wasn't that a blast to get on and off public transportation!) so whenever they got tired, one or both of the girls would hop in for a few minutes for a ride. This kept them refreshed, while we adults kept walking slower and slower.

I kept looking over at my dad. Everytime I called him, "Dad," it was like rolling a marble around in my mouth. It felt strange, alien, and I realized that all these years of separation and pain have taken away the relationship we once had. As crippling as that relationship was, even that much is gone. I felt, though, that there was a chance for something more, a new relationship, healthy in a way that was never possible before.

I was scared going into this visit. I was very relieved that the husband was scheduled to be off on the same days my dad was going to be here. I needed the moral support.

But Dad has changed. He's mellowed. He wasn't critical of me, or my family. He never once said anything about my weight, my life, or my house. He even told me that he was proud of me, that he thought I was a good mother. And he said that after a whole day of watching me with them. (I thought to myself, "Yeah, you say that when I've had help all day with them. You should see me at the end of a long and difficult day!")

We talked about old memories. I didn't realize, but a couple of things I remember from when I was small took place when I was really small. One incident in particular happened when I was only about eight months old, Dad told me.

We laughed a lot, we smiled at each other. He was pleasant and calm all day, even at the end of the day when he was tired and had to have been hurting from all the walking around. Even when he was unhappy with his wife he never lost his temper, never swore, never became threatening. He was someone I've never seen before, the father I always wished he'd be, the grandfather I wanted for my children.

I'm not sure what to think. I feel a little wary, and cautious, not sure if this is a front kept up for a couple of days. But, I've never seen him keep himself under control for so long before, even when he was trying his hardest. I'm inclined to think this was real, that he finally really has changed.

Grandma and Grandpa came over again tonight to take us all to dinner, after spending the day sightseeing. There were more toys for the girls, bubbles, stuffed animals (Tigger and Pooh.) Then, after dinner, the goodbyes. They drove off in one direction, we drove off in another. I felt some tears behind my eyes. Astonishing. For years now I thought I'd only feel relief when my father died. I've wished he would die, so that I could go ahead with my life and stop hurting and hating so much. Now, I'm actually missing him and wishing he was still here.

I felt off balance last night, like I'd been fighting against a gale and suddenly the wind stopped. I've had to fight so hard all my life to be myself, every decision I made for my happiness and well-being meeting with his disapproval and attack. I had to be so strong, from such a young age, learning to protect my mother and siblings as well as myself from his attacks.

If Dad has changed, that means I have to change too. If I want a relationship with my father, and I do, then I have to change to let myself love him again.

When I was little I worshipped him. I thought there was no-one braver, smarter, stronger. My dad was the greatest dad in the world and I knew everything would be OK if he was there. It has taken me decades to forgive him for betraying me, for being a danger to me instead of my protector.

I want my Daddy back. I hope that's possible. I don't know how to to do this yet, but I want to try and I'll believe he's changed until he proves otherwise. I hope he doesn't.