Easter Smile´s

Easter Smile´s
We argue a lot, over the phone of course since the distance has disabled us from any real relationship for over a year. “Why can you not be here, you have missed the first five months of his life and a whole year of mine?” I sadly stated. He replied with what he always says when this topic is brought up, “I am trying baby I just need a little more time to straighten everything out, only a few more weeks.” I agree but in my mind I am devastated for I have heard this response since August and it is now February. I know he will eventually come, but what then? He will spend a month here and disappear again? This situation is killing me. I am not holding on for my sake, I will eventually find what it takes to move on from my first love, not completely but enough for a new life. I glance over at my sweet little boy swinging in his green cloud like toy. He is so adorable, an innocent and small spitting image of his father.
I hardly ever think of the man who I once called dad. I have only a few vague memories of him. Most of them are bad ones, memories I don’t like to think about. My parents were young, but in love, at least for a time. I trust what my mom tells me about him, about us as a family. He was a good father when he was around she always tells me, when he is brought up. When I was three years old, he abandoned us. My sister was just born and he volunteered to go fight in the war. He left us there all alone, his wife and his two young daughters, left my mom to fend for her self. My dad was gone a year, and as my mom tells it he was a different person upon his return, a hard person to understand. I never really understood all that was going on, the yelling and the crying, and eventually him moving out.
My mom tells me that my sister and I visited him on the weekends. I don’t recall a lot about this, just that he had a new girlfriend and that a small girl lived with them. He seemed wound up in his new family, leaving me and my sister abandoned in his “To do list”. One disturbing incident I do recall is going to the grocery store with my mom. I saw him in the small yellow car next to us, being a daddy’s girl at that time I screamed for his attention. I was excited to see him. “Daddy Daddy”, I yelled as he glanced over at me, walked out of his car and into the grocery store. He ignored me, straight up ignored his first born child. The rest of that story is a blur. I know my mom was hurt and extremely angry as she hunted him down and started a fight with him and his new love, yelling and screaming till nothing else could be said. I never looked at him the same after this; he was always the man who hurt me for the first time at the young age of six.
My mother was great at being there for us. She always gave us what we needed, and a whole lot of extra love. But times where hard, she desperately needed help once in awhile. My father did not acknowledge this desperation. We where his children as much as we where hers, still he did nothing to show us this. My second memory of my father’s selfishness was a day when my mother counted on him to help her. My sister and I attended the same kinder garden. She had to work late this day, and was not able to pick us up. He promised he would pick us up and take us to our home. We waited at this kinder garden for almost an hour, not knowing why no one was here. What I remember next is my mom obviously crying peddling her pink slim bike as fast as she could. They had called her, asking why we where still here, afraid and crying. He simply just never showed up, showing again how much he did not care what happened to his girls. “I forgot,” is all he could say when he was later questioned about this tragic incident.
Through all the bad times I remember just one time I knew I loved my father. It was Easter, I was so excited, for my mom told me dad was taking us out. He took us to the woods with a big beige blanket and delicious white chocolate. We talked and laughed and about an hour into our adventure he said “We should take a walk.” As we strolling along holding hands, I heard little chirp like noises. As my sister and I searched for the cause of these noises Dad just smiled. I will always remember that smile, it was a warm smile, the kind you only give to people you love. Searching harder we discovered little mechanical toy chicks wobbling in the bushes, making these cute sounds. Oh they where gorgeous, what an extraordinary thing for him to plan. I never wanted that day to end, the only time I really new that this man accepted me; I knew that deep down he really did love me.
Recalling him now is like recalling events in my mind that are repressed way down there in my memory attic. I spent many days staring out of the window waiting for him to pick me up like he said he would. Many days wondering when he would return from England like he said he would. And after awhile wondering why I did not know all along that when he left for England that that was the last time I saw him. I was seven, my whole child hood ahead of me, a child hood I came to know with out any father figure.
I grew up fine; I always had the love I needed from my mom and grandmother. Still deep inside I know that not having him there to see my accomplishments, to engage in my discipline, and just to feel his love, affected me negatively. I am very passive, especially when it comes to male figures. I yearn for their acceptance, I am shattered if I am ignored or pushed away. I am sad when my friends talk about their fathers and I have no story to tell. He hurt me, I was nothing to him, and all I ever wanted was his guidance and his love.
I love my son more than anything in the world. I will do everything I can to make him happy and successful in life. I know his father loves him just as much as I do. Often I think about my life with out his father, my true love. I know I will not let this happen. As long as I have the power in me to fight I will do just that, never giving up on the thought of us three being happy, being together. Then again I am not fighting for me. I am fighting for my child, for him to never experience things in the way I did in my life. I will always fight for the shared basketball games, the teaching of riding a bike, fishing trips, and numerous Easters together with small yellow mechanical chicks, and of course the ever loving smile a parent gives to their child.