My Dad Didn’t Die: Grieving an Emotionally Unavailable Father

My writing sits at the intersection of the raw, honest, authentic human experience and the Higher or Divine consciousness perspective. Sometimes you’ll find these points of view together, and other times they’ll appear separately so that each has its space to express itself without crowding the other. 

The following blog is the first in a two-part series, where you’ll find my separate points of view of the same experience. Here in the first piece you’ll read what came from the heart of the human woman as I reflected on my relationship with my father. In Part 2, you’ll read from the heart of Divine consciousness. 

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My dad was 5 years old when his father passed away. It was 2 years ago this summer that I lost my dad. I was 41. 

But my dad didn’t die. 

Directed by my mother he exited my life. 

If I’m being honest, he never completely entered my life. 

He was never emotionally available to me. He never took an interest in getting to know me or learning about my life. Being a protector didn’t seem to matter to him. Or maybe, it’s that it wasn’t accessible to him. That’s likely more accurate. But it doesn’t change that it affected me. Greatly.

Vivid in my memory is a time 4 years ago, while waiting in line to board an airplane, that I overheard a woman my age talking to her father on the phone. 

“Thanks for checking on me, Dad,” I heard her say, then after a pause when her father must have shared a loving sentiment, “Don’t worry, I promise to call and let you know when I land…I love you too.” 

In that moment I realized my dad never once called me to check on me, to see if I was okay, to ask about my safety, to say he loved me. Not once in my entire life. 

In an effort to release the thoughts I no longer want to hold in my body. I wrote him a letter. 

I didn’t send it. I know it would either be read to or by my mother who would manipulate whatever I wrote to keep him from receiving the message with an open heart. Or a loving heart. 

So, I’m sharing it here instead. Maybe there’s a dad out there somewhere who will read this and care. Not about me. But about something, or someone, that matters to him. Maybe not. Either way, my letter is called I Wonder…

I wonder if any of your other children cared to acknowledge you on Father’s Day. I wonder why you don’t care to acknowledge your only daughter, who never did anything but finally stand up for herself. 

I wonder if you know what your own son did to her. I wonder if you know he abused her for years. I wonder if you know he super glued all the locks to her own home and laughed while he sat and watched her not be able to get into her own home, the home he and your wife always planned to take over. 

I wonder if you know the truth about your son. I wonder if you know the criminal things he’s done to your own daughter and other women, and that’s just the start. 

I wonder why you’ve stood by and done nothing to protect your own daughter if you did know how badly she needed help. 

I wonder if you know she had to call the police for help because she was scared of your own son. 

I wonder if you know the truth about what your wife has been up to for years. I wonder if you know you’ve been lied to about your daughter and her husband. 

I wonder why you’ve made yourself emotionally unavailable to your children since they were born. I wonder why you’ve stayed in an unhealthy relationship for over 45 years. 

I wonder if you realize you always have choice. I wonder if you realize life IS choice. I wonder how it feels to obey your wife and believe her lies. 

I wonder how it makes you feel when you all make fun of other people and are mean-spirited for no reason. 

I wonder how it feels to treat your only daughter like she doesn’t exist. I wonder what it was about her that was such a “problem”: her kindness, her intelligence, her integrity, her love? 

I wonder what your father would say. I wonder if you’ll decide to be and do better. 

I wonder. 

If this piece spoke to something in you, I’d love to stay connected.

My writing explores the intersection of the raw, honest human experience and the Higher perspective that can sometimes help us see our lives differently. I share new writing, reflections, and what I’m discovering along the way through my newsletter.

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Disclaimer

This content is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as medical advice.