An inconvenient memory

When I was 15, my Dad picked me up for a summer vacation.  He was a truck driver at the time and really it was just a chance to ride with him while he worked.  I had not seen him in a couple years before this.  My folks divorced when I was 7 and Dad seemed to come by less and less often until it just seemed he wasn’t coming back.  But here he was ready to take a long trip.

I wasn’t a kid with a grudge though.  I was happy to go with him.  The truck was cool and a long road trip sounded like fun.  It was really a pretty cool vacation.  I think we crossed the country about 3 times in 6 weeks.  Dad drove and I would ride as a passenger when there was something cool to look at.  I would sleep in the cab when there wasn’t.  Truckstops always had something new and cool to look at.  That year the “High Speed” pinball machine was released.  I played a lot of that game.

Somewhere in the middle of that vacation we stopped in Oklahoma.  My Dad had a new son with a gal he met on the road, Diane.  His name was Nathan and he was only about 3 months old.  I was 15.  My mom had my sister when I was 11.  I was pretty good with babies.  Nathan seemed alright.  I got to hold him a few times before we left.  I didn’t know what was going to happen next.

Eventually the trip ended and Dad dropped me off at home.  It had been a great adventure.  But Dad seemed pretty upset.  He wiped away some tears with an old towel in his truck.  He didn’t really want to come to the door.  I thought I understood.  We hugged and he said goodbye.

When someone completely exits your life you don’t really know it the moment it happens.  Dad had been away for a couple of years.  I didn’t expect to get phone calls right away.  Months went by… then years… Dad more or less disappeared.  I’d hear a rumor or two that he’d been in town.  Someone would claim to have seen him somewhere.  But he never called.

Soon I was 19 and moving out.  Life was so busy and full.  So many things just happen.  Where Dad was didn’t bother me too much.  When I did think about it I would just assume he was around and would show up again someday.  More months and more years… No Dad.

At 24 I got a phone call from a cousin on Dad’s side of the family.  I didn’t really keep up with them much as there was no one really to take me around to visit.  My Dad’s family wasn’t all that close anyway.  It had been a pretty hard life for most of them.  She called to tell me my Dad was in the hospital.  He was going in for heart surgery.  She thought I should go talk to him.

I did.  I sat with him in his recovery room and we talked a while.  He was in pretty great spirits.  He was happy to see me and we talked like it really hadn’t been 10 years since I’d seen him.  More months went by… more years… No Dad.

I began to hold a grudge.

About 10 years later I tracked him down and went to see him.  We talked on the phone a couple times first.  I brought my kids by to see him.  He was so happy to see his grandkids.  But we didn’t stay all that long.  Dad was still heavy smoker and the kids were little and were in to everything.  Dad’s apartment was cluttered with little hazards—like insulin needles.  I suppose it wasn’t really these hazards that kept me away though.  If I had to be honest, I’d have to admit that I felt cheated.  I think he would have loved to spend more time with the kiddos.  It wasn’t fair he wanted to see them and had let so many years of my life go by with so little.

I think I must have recognized this as an “unresolved problem” and I sought him out again—without the kids.  We talked a bit.  I can’t even recall what we talked about.   I gave him a NASCAR jacket.  I knew he would like it.  It felt good to give my Dad a present.  We went to one of his AA meetings.  It was emotional like those meetings often are.  So many years gone by, so much wasted.

By now I had moved to Kansas City.  Visits home were packed with family and friends and just always seemed too short to visit Dad.  Months went by… then years.

I had to go through my own divorce. After a couple years I re-married.  I adopted my wife’s son.  I moved to New Zealand.  I didn’t share any of this with Dad.  As far as I know, he’s still back home doing whatever he’s done for 30 years.

But remember Nathan at the beginning of this story?  Three months old then he’s 23 years old now.  He is married and has a daughter on the way.  He found me on Facebook and sent me a note.  Dad pretty much disappeared on him too.

There is far more about Nathan that I don’t know than I know.  But I am glad he found me.  While I live a bit too far away to stroll down to Oklahoma to visit, I won’t lose him.  I won’t lose more months and more years. He doesn't deserve that--neither do I.