Daddy's Girl to Daddy-less

When I was a child, my preference was clearly for my father.  When I visited him on the weekends and during the summer, it seemed like all we did was have fun together.  We had interesting conversations, played video games and baseball, watched Star Trek, read books, took walks...  Sure, there were moments when I probably felt like running away, but I was still his girl.

One year things suddenly began to change, and the years after that only brought more pain and guilt and shame and confusion.  Everything climaxed when I decided around the age of 12 -- or rather, the decision was made for me by my dad and his wife -- to continue my life without him in it.

It's hard to get used to things like that, but I've seemed to manage alright.  I've done my best to cope with my father passing me in a store, acting like I was a stranger, only to show up at my high school graduation uninvited to tell me he was very proud of me.

With the advances and popularity of online communities, though, I couldn't ignore it for long.  Eventually I found him on Flickr through a comment he made on a picture of me taken by a friend.  For months I obsessed over watching for his new photographs, and even asked to use a couple of them in my college reports.  We added each other on Facebook.  I have to admit, I had high hopes.

Hopes that ended up being too high.  When I sent him messages about the photographs, there was no enthusiasm in them, only bland words.  When he commented on my statuses, he acted as though we were old high school buddies, not biologically entwined.  Finally it was too much, and I sent him a final long message telling him I had done my best, after which I blocked him.

I had all intentions of truly erasing him from my life, and getting rid of the constant ache of wanting a father.  But I still find myself occasionally stalking his Flickr account or entering his name into Google to see what comes up.

Today, out of nowhere, I decided to try the latter (after perusing his Flickr, of course).  I ended up reading every Amazon.com review he has written, and the deep ache began to resurface.  It caused me to sit and long for his companionship, knowing how much we have turned out alike and how he could have taught me so many things about mutual interests.

It's hard to accept that it just isn't going to happen.  As with everything, I'm envying so many other fatherless situations (and also knowing they wouldn't really be any better, it's just in vain), wishing that I at least hadn't had such a wonderful time with him before we split or that I couldn't so easily keep tabs on his life now.

The internet is wonderful for many things, but aiding in getting over someone so meaningful to your life it is not.  It can answer many questions, but the question it can't answer is whether someone you cared about also still cares about you.  And it certainly doesn't make a father out of someone who chose to forego that responsibility long ago.