Sep
10
2016

Go to fucking hell

11:48 PM   ♥   Comment

I debated posting this. I didn’t want to put them on MY blog because they are not a part of MY life. However, I want to get this out and make it known to those who may or may not be reading how I’m feeling. I hope he comes across this but my guess is she was the only one who made him think about me at all.

My “grandmother” died back in March (please, for the love of god, note the super sarcastic quotes around grandmother). Not my grandmother, my father’s mother. Don’t know much about my father? That goes for both of us. So, I’m going to give you about as much as I have, as quickly as possible.

My mom and father conceived me when they were 15/16. For what it’s worth, I truly believe my mother and father were in love. Believe it or not, I was planned as an attempt to keep my father in Pennsylvania. I want to add that having me WAS HIS IDEA. However, things became too real for him. My father’s family gave him a way out of his responsibilities. He took it and he never looked back. He had a son only a couple of years after I was born that he raised. I have never met nor spoken to him*. He moved to Florida to be with his family (and escape fatherhood).

When I was 8, we moved to Florida, for different reasons. He was about 6 hours away from where I lived. My mom called him to come see me often but he always said it “wasn’t a good day”. My aunt and uncle who lived in PA came to see us when we lived in Florida. We put them back on a plane when I had the following conversation with my mother:

Me: Where does my father live?
Mom: [General Area]
Me: And how far is that?
Mom: About 6 hours.
Me: And Aunt Angel, who is terrified of flying, came to see me?

Until that moment my mom tried to cover for him. She told me “We were young, dumb, and stupid.” I was a bright kid. I understood that. It was that moment, in the airport, that I realized what kind of person my father was. He was no longer “young, dumb, and stupid”. All I needed to know was my mother stayed and to this day that’s all I need to know. [In the off chance he is reading this, he needs to know how much of a coward I believe he is, to leave a 16 year old girl with a baby. There are times where I am glad he never stepped into my life because he doesn’t deserve it. He left a teenager to raise his child alone. I, as I am now, would never forgive him for that] He had another kid who he was there for. He was raising his son. He left my mother to fend for herself. I recall a picture that he sent my mother of my half brother playing with one of those ride on trucks. I didn’t have one of those. In my very young mind, I thought ,”Maybe if my dad** had been around, I would have one.” It escalated from there. He left me with my mother and didn’t bother to check in on me. I’d often think about how different my life would be had he been in it or did he ever think about me? That was really it. 98% of the time, I didn’t feel like I was lacking anything. This is really where my definition of grandma comes in to play. She was there for me. There were times where we had to go without, I’ve played my fair share of card games by candle light but Christmases at a young age and utilities on occasion are owed to my Grandma. My mom tried the best she could but she was on her own. My grandma supplied us with school supplies, she babysat, she took us to circuses and fairs that I remember as an adult. I know my grandma.

When I was 16, Linda wrote me a message on MySpace and tried to start a relationship. Most conversations led to her blaming my mother for keeping me from my father (not true in the fucking slightest, my mom begged him to see me when we lived in the same state). Little did she know my mother and I shared everything. Things started with her trying to tell me how old I was (she was off a year and ARGUING with me) to having a friend of hers try to convince me to run away from my mother. I’m not joking. I chose to end the “relationship” we had. I never spoke to my father during it. Despite he and Linda owning a business together and working together and him KNOWING she was talking to me, he chose to “wait for me to come to him”. I had no intention of doing that and I never have. By that point, I expected and DESERVED an apology. I still do. That was the last contact I had with her. It was Myspace messages and she sent me one birthday email I think the next year (I had stopped speaking to her by then) that I didn’t discover until a couple of years later since I had changed emails.

I feel nothing knowing that she is dead. I just want that known. She is a stranger. I just don’t feel anything. I have cried over celebrity deaths and I am an easy cryer. I cry about damn near everything. I don’t feel ANYTHING for this woman. Had she said the truth when we spoke or “I tried to get your father to visit you” I may have believed her. I may have latched on to her and kept her around (ignored my father) and acknowledge that she tried. She never said that. My father had every opportunity in the world to see me, to try. If I mattered at all to him, he would have come back to PA and tried to fight for custody. Instead I only have the excuse that “my mother would have had him arrested”. No, the state would have arrested him for the back child support. My mother had nothing to do with that. However, they were sure that I was just as young, dumb, and stupid as he was.

The reason I am writing this is simply because I am furious that I was mentioned in her obituary. That’s what makes me feel anything about all of this. Because, no joke, I can only think, “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?” That’s what I feel. It infuriates me. I am so mad, I am on the verge of tears. That’s all I feel. I have no idea who wrote that obituary but the thought of my father having anything to do with it makes my knuckles white with rage. How fucking dare you drop my name? How fucking dare you say she was a grandmother to me? I didn’t know her. Also, how fucking dare you slight your son? That was his grandmother***, solely his, but you made sure to mention me first, because I was first born? That’s just gross. I NEVER ONCE met you. I’m not even sure my mother met you, since I only recall her mentioning my father’s grandmother. But I know you were out there telling your friends and anyone who would listen that my bitch of a mother kept me from him. I know that because your friend tried to practically kidnap me via MySpace. Everyone thinks that Michael was some man who wanted to be there for his kid but that is a fucking lie. Thank god for my mother and my family who were there for me, who raised me to know better. The ones who raised me to know better than to write on her obituary page that you are all a bunch of fucking liars and I wish everyone knew what kind of people they are. I feel like I was used when I was written into it. I feel like someone thought about me and how I was “kept from my family” Had I known she was dying I would have told them to “Get Fucked”. I know they are out there telling their family and friends what a terrible person my mother is for keeping me away from him. The truth is, had he come to me years ago, he could have had a chance of salvaging this. He could have. Instead, he was a coward who turned away from his daughter. He knew what he was doing and I hope when he’s on his deathbed he thinks of me. I hope he wants to make things right. I hope he regrets not being there. I do not apologize when I say, “Tough fucking shit”. You had your chance. 25 years is too long to wait for you to “grow up” and I hope I am his last thought. I won’t cry. I won’t feel anything but rage that you name dropped me (AND FUCKING SPELLED MY NAME WRONG IN YOUR MOTHER’S OBITUARY.)

If I believed in hell, I’d tell you to rot in it. To know that my father’s father left him and he felt that it was best to leave me… I could never understand that. I can’t wait to have my first child and I already can’t understand people that would leave their child behind. I have no feelings for deadbeats. You. are. scum.

* Not unless you count the time he called the house to speak to my mother when I was a toddler (probably to ask my mom for permission to claim me on his taxes like he did every year) and I answered the phone. When I said, “Who dis?” he said, “Your Daddy.” and I freaked out screaming I didn’t have a daddy and listing the family members I do have.

** There was a conversation I had at my aunt’s house with my mom, uncle, and aunt present where I said I wish I had my dad. And my mother corrected me to tell me that I didn’t have a dad, he was my father. Semantics, right? No. She was perfectly in the right. She stuck up for him for the longest time but she was correct. He was my father, not my dad. Not even fucking close.

*** I had a brief “relationship?” (I guess you would call it) with my half brother. I have NO hard feelings for him. We didn’t keep up because honestly, I was a 16 year old girl and he was a 12ish year old boy. We had nothing in common except a father. That was it. If he were to message me right now, I would talk to him.

Also, because I have not said it. Thank you to my mom, my grandma, and my step dad who were there for me, raised me right, and took care of me. I am the person I am because of you all and for what it’s worth, I am proud of the woman I have become. I didn’t need him because I had you.

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I’m Randi, short for RandiLynn. I am a 25 year old blogger, web developer, furmama, and gamer from Northeast PA. I live with my husband and 7 animals. I live, eat, and sleep HTML & CSS. I spend my time creating pretty web stuff, blogging, gaming or binge-watching TV shows.


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