My Dad-Mom

Yesterday was Father's Day back in Guatemala. 

As a child, I used to make slightly modified Father's Day presents so that my mom could have them because my dad was well... with his other family. I don't want to place him under a bad light or anything. My dad was just a very passionate person, passionate about life, about women and about his endeavors. He was also always very sick. (Sound familiar?)

I never got to have a relationship with him because he passed away shortly after my ninth birthday. Amazing, I was as old as my little Nora. And just like her dad, my dad was never around for me. I hate it that the story repeats itself because I realize as an adult woman that growing up without a dad is (like mom says) like growing up without a limb. Of course you get by, you live a normal life and all. But you are never complete and something is always going to be missing. And you are always going to envy somebody for having that which you don't have.

My dad was a great guy, or so I hear. People tell me stories about him, how wonderful he was and what he did for others. He used to light a room whenever he entered it and he would paint a smile on people's faces whenever he turned his attention towards them. He was awesome, and instead of feeling proud about these stories, I want to punch somebody in the nose, because I feel cheated of a great dad, a great guy. And I wish so much to have known him and spent time with him. The way our story went was that he left my mom pregnant with me. He built another family. He never really spent time with me ever. And I never felt like I was special enough or important enough for him (or any other man after). And it ruined my relationship with God as well because that was the image of a dad for me: a guy who knocks up women, leaves them, builds another family and leaves his helpless children behind when they most need him. But now it's too late to regret. Besides, most of these wounds have healed with a lot of time and therapy and prayer.

If I could say something to my dad today, it would be that I wish he had been that great guy he was to others, to me as well. I wish he had been there to dance with me at graduation and to give me away at my wedding. I wish he had come to Germany and held his grandchild after she was born. And I wish he had thought I was special enough as to visit me alone. And I wish that he had talked to me about boys because I could have used that advice, coming from a guy. Maybe I wouldn't have even needed the advice because I'd have had such a great example.

But now I can't really complain because I have always had a perfect, caring, heavenly Father. He loved me so much that he sent his most precious Son to die for me. He thought I was that important and special. And He has taken care of me through all my good and bad times and I know that my little one knows this Father well. This Father is intimately intertwined with all our activities and knows even our unsaid prayers. Just like mom. Sometimes I think God is a lot more like my mom: there through thick and thin and never holds back on telling me where I am messing up.

So Happy Father's Day, Dad. And Mom, thank you! You did your best to fill in for the father I never had.