Surprise, Surprise

It’s not like I expected anything else. My dad called me on my way home from work and told me he didn’t think he could make it. Something about his health not allowing him to be in the car that long. Odds are there is some validity to his excuse, he’s 75 and not in the best of health, but, in all honesty, at this point it really doesn’t matter.

They divorced when I was 11 and there’s been a different excuse ever since. Whenever stuff like this comes up I wonder if he knows that I’m pretty much the only one who has any kind of faith left in him. When he says he going to do something I still buy into it. I can’t think of anyone else who does.

I’ve got two siblings that have pretty much written him off and the third, who if he didn’t live near him, would have done the same years ago. I‘m always the one making excuses for him and yeah, though I’m pretty pissed right now, will probably continue to do so until he’s gone.

It’s not out of any loyalty or nobility on my part. I think what it really boils down to is that I’ve been making excuses for myself my whole life too. It sort of puts him into perspective for me. He doesn’t mean to be a jerk, he just doesn’t know better. Me? I still can be quite an ass sometimes but the difference is I think I know better. That doesn’t mean I’m any better by any stretch. I think it just means that I don’t show it as much.

It might be why I’m not nearly as social as him. Maybe I’m just trying to hide my faults in front of others so much that I choose to not see people as much as most. See, that’s what I mean, making another excuse for me. I’m full of them. I can look at any part of my life and find what I consider a valid excuse for whatever behavior I exhibited that has made me this person I am that consistently wishes he were someone else.

I think I may be on to something here. Maybe I keep trying to see the good in him because I see a lot of me in him. I’ve harbored that fear inside for years and, as is par, excused myself away from the concept for the same amount of time. It would be so easy for me to say I hate him and I don’t want to talk to him again and it wouldn’t be just because of this weekend. He’s been the same forever and the final straw has come and gone for 47 years. But wouldn’t that, in a way, be saying that I hate me and I don’t want to talk to me again? Does that make sense? I can’t think of another way to explain it so it is what it is.
Anyway, I’ll get over it and believe what he says the next time I talk to him. I’ll feel that little glimmer of hope when he says he’ll do something and know deep inside that he’s just blowing smoke. I’ll call my sister or brother and they’ll give the standard, “yeah, right” and I’ll talk about how, this time, I think he’ll show up. What am I, 12?