Redundant Dad
I love being The Father, and I'm very good at it. I was lucky that my daughter lived with me after the divorce, and that my ex was supportive of the arrangement. The truth is, I wouldn't have fought for custody despite that I desperately wanted it. She's an excellent mother, so such a battle would only hurt my kid, not help.
I raised my daughter as a single dad for four years before Eris stopped by to mix things up a little. I had to move to a different city for work, and my daughter moved in with my ex. I was devastated. Time went by, and life went on. My ex got engaged and to a man I like, fortunately. I was visiting them when the real blow came:
I overheard my daughter call him "dad". The word cut like a dull, rusty knife. I've been around the emotional block a few times. I've had my heart ripped from my chest more than once. But never by a nine-year-old child, and never had it hurt nearly so much. I was destroyed, and The Father was severely pissed off.
People told me they admired the sacrifice I made for her well-being when I quit my high-paying job and moved to be near her. They don't understand that I didn't do it for her at all. I did it entirely for The Father.
I am The Father. It is my right to have The Daughter be a part of my everyday life, and I demanded that right. The Father will not be denied. No intruder was going to take my child away from me. No way, no how, wasn't going to happen. I was on the warpath.
My daughter is the one that set me straight. She said "He's my dad too, but only you are my Father." I wish I were half as wise and smart as she sometimes. It's been years since then, and it's only recently that I fully realized what she taught me in that one short statement. Her relationship with him is a very different one from her relationship with me. She uses the same word for us both, but it doesn't really mean quite the same thing.
That The Intruder gained a daughter did not mean that The Father had to lose one. It only means my daughter's life is that much richer. I'm a redundant dad, and I'm happy for it. And besides, I remain her only Father.
I raised my daughter as a single dad for four years before Eris stopped by to mix things up a little. I had to move to a different city for work, and my daughter moved in with my ex. I was devastated. Time went by, and life went on. My ex got engaged and to a man I like, fortunately. I was visiting them when the real blow came:
I overheard my daughter call him "dad". The word cut like a dull, rusty knife. I've been around the emotional block a few times. I've had my heart ripped from my chest more than once. But never by a nine-year-old child, and never had it hurt nearly so much. I was destroyed, and The Father was severely pissed off.
People told me they admired the sacrifice I made for her well-being when I quit my high-paying job and moved to be near her. They don't understand that I didn't do it for her at all. I did it entirely for The Father.
I am The Father. It is my right to have The Daughter be a part of my everyday life, and I demanded that right. The Father will not be denied. No intruder was going to take my child away from me. No way, no how, wasn't going to happen. I was on the warpath.
My daughter is the one that set me straight. She said "He's my dad too, but only you are my Father." I wish I were half as wise and smart as she sometimes. It's been years since then, and it's only recently that I fully realized what she taught me in that one short statement. Her relationship with him is a very different one from her relationship with me. She uses the same word for us both, but it doesn't really mean quite the same thing.
That The Intruder gained a daughter did not mean that The Father had to lose one. It only means my daughter's life is that much richer. I'm a redundant dad, and I'm happy for it. And besides, I remain her only Father.
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