Since my dad lived close to us we could walk there. But one thing was for certain: Even though distance was not a factor, our previous years of living with a violent alcoholic were not magically erased just because he was no longer living in our home. We went to his apartment with reluctance. Not one of us would go there alone.
My dad moved into the apartment above the bar in our village. By today's standards it was a two bedroom, one bath with a living room and kitchen. It was perfect for a single person or a single person with one kid. I remember the deep yellow paint on the walls the cobalt blue rug and some of the furniture my dad had taken from the house (his dresser, coffee table and not much else).
When I'd moved back into my mom's his girlfriend stayed. We would go over there for some visits on the weekend, holidays, Father's Day and other times. It was usually awkward because there wasn't anything to talk about. He tried having a father/daughter relationship with us but it was already too late. The damage had been done.
I remember one Father's Day when I was talking and used a swear word just to see what he'd do. I was sitting on his counter which was okay. He looked right as me as if I'd committed a mortal sin and told me Father's Day was now over. I looked at my sisters when he told me to get out of his house and not come back until I could learn how to respect his house. I slid off the counter and he got toe to toe with me. I was now about seventeen years old and stared at him eye to eye. I left the kitchen and my sisters followed me.
None of us wanted to be there anyway.
After that, my sisters got into recovery.
We told my mom what happened. She told us we did not have to go over there if we didn't want to. I believe there was a gap of a couple of years where I did not see or talk to him. Other than my high school graduation, he did not have a place nor did he fit in my life of recovery.
I don't remember exactly but I think it was a few years where all we exchanged were birthday and holiday cards. Do you know how hard it is to find a Happy Birthday and Happy Father's Day card for a man who abused you? Of course you do.
You try to find a card that isn't mushy with how they've been there for you; how much they've encouraged you to become a better person; how every time you needed advice they were there to listen and offer you wisdom; how they brushed your hair and put it in pony tail; how they went to your games and cheered for you; the long talks while looking up at the stars; teaching you how to build models or rockets or paper airplanes; how pretty you were on your first day of school; knowing he'd be there whenever you needed help with a bully; his hug to make your hurts go away; the father/daughter dance he so proudly escorted you to; taking you out to celebrate the grades you worked hard to earn at school; and the time you and he spent together at Boy Scouts or 4-H or Awana or another father/son organization where it would just be the two of you.
That's some of what Adult Children In Recovery dream of for dads. I've thought about writing my own line of greeting cards for Adult Children In Recovery.
Who knows? Maybe someday that will happen.
