It is no secret that my bio-dad was not a good father figure. I missed out on all the father daughter relationship feelings. I was instead marginalized as “just a girl.” I found out he told his customers that he only had two kids, my brothers.
I visited my bio-dad once growing up. I was invited to travel alone, by train for eight hours, for a holiday. I was a very skinny sample size teen. His wife, at the time, took me shopping in the building for a wardrobe. I asked repeatedly if I would be spending time with B. I was told it would be much more fun shopping than hanging with him. That’s not how I felt, but I was unable to speak my truth at the time.
I always wondered what was wrong with me, that made me unlovable as a little girl, a teen, and an adult woman. He never knew me. He met my daughters once at at my niece and nephew’s bat and bar mitzvahs. He never met his only great-grandchildren. When bio-dad passed away last year, I felt no loss. Luckily, I had sought out therapy to heal my issues with his rejection. I can accept that the problem was him.
Father’s Day is something that has no special meaning for me. I had no real father. When my stepdad passed away (the only good one) many years ago, I knew I’d never celebrate a Father’s Day again.
Every blue moon I feel some sort of grief about what I never had.