A Son's Betrayal

"Daddy don't you understand the damage you have done? For you it's just a memory, but for me it still lives on. Bruises fade father but the pain remains the same, I still remember how you kept me so afraid, the strength is my mother for all the love she gave" -- Christina Aguilera "I'm Okay".

I spoke briefly about my relationship with my father in the blog, "Connections" which you may want to read before reading this one. It will help you connect the dots, and understand.

In June, I was completing a very important chapter in my life, I was graduating high school. I had called my father inviting him to attend, but before I made the phone call, I thought long and hard. A part of me thought he didn't deserve to share that special moment with me, because he had nothing to do with helping me get there. Yet, like so many times before, I gave in to my better judgement and told myself, "He is my dad, he should be included". My father gave me countless reasons why he couldn't come, and I thought to myself, "Really? You can't find any way of getting down to New Jersey for this very important day?".

After that conversation, I deleted his number and wanted nothing to do with the man that seemed to disregard every important aspect of my life. Before, it use to hurt so much, for me, I use to lie to myself, and tried to tell myself that he loved me.

Several months go by, and then he calls me. At this point, I am in my Fall Semester of college and I was busy when he called, so I hung up quickly. I didn't bother storing his number, and I had no intention of calling him back. Christmas Eve swings by, and he SO just happened to call me-- not having stored his number, I was unable to ignore him, and answered the phone.

Instantly, I realize it is him, but I ask "Who is it?", just so he would understand that I didn't have his number stored, so he could understand that I wasn't planning on using it. He goes on a rant talking about how he called me and I was too busy, and he said, "You tell people I've deserted you" [clearly a relative I recently spoke to on Facebook or got re-connect with, must have taken my words, and took it the wrong way]

For years, I took the fact that my father abandoned me personally- I thought it was all my fault. I use to cry, use to blame my mother, and I never once thought the fault lied upon him.

That was until I got older, until I was able to see with my own eyes, the very same reality my mother was trying to avoid me seeing- truth is, my father never cared about me, or any of his children in my opinion. My brother Kamal "Pupi" was murdered in January of 2007, and I believe it is the GUILT my father is feeling that has made him realize what a crappy father he has been. See the problem is that, my brother's unexpected death only made me more angry at my father. He was the reason why my step-mother had moved my older siblings to Buffalo, and although he wasn't the direct cause of death-- he wasn't a father to either of us, and instead of encouraging my brother to stop selling drugs, he enjoyed the perks that came with having a son who made money off selling illegal drugs.

He was so busy trying to be their friend, that he lost hope in trying to be their dad. Not that they would have listened, but still, he sat idle. Grief is his only motive for trying to make amends now, and he is simply nineteen years too late. I don't want anything to do with him, and I don't want to speak to him or have any interaction with him.

You are probably thinking that I am crazy for feeling this way, that I am selfish, and that I need to forgive and move on but I don't care to be honest.

It may come off to my relatives as a son's betrayal, but it's simple, all I am doing is the same thing he has done for years- I am just not taking the time to be a part of his life.

As crazy as it may seem, the fact that I spent years yearning for the day that my father would be a father, the truth is, I needed him the most when I was growing up, and now that I am a young man, all I need from him, is for him to stay away and keep his distance. I don't need anyone coming in after years of tears, sweat, hard work, heartache and suffering that my mother and I endured to try to take credit for all that I am today, and all that I have accomplished.

My mother may not be perfect, but she was more of a man then my father will ever be, and she raised me to be able to stand on my own without any support from my father. I actually hate the fact that I have to refer to him as that, because only the universe knows that he has been nothing short of a stranger in my life.

I feel a little bit of guilt, because he is sick and in his Mid-to late forties, but the matter at hand is that now he must deal with the errors of his ways, and recognize the fact that to me, he will mean nothing more to me, than a stranger.

A betrayal of a sort, but when a man doesn't even know what my favorite kind of foods are, or what my life is all about, he has no right to show up and try to get involved now. He can wait to read my first book, "Crippled But Not Broken: An Early Life Autobiography" when I am done writing it, like everyone else.

He may think it is just memories he missed out on, but for me, all that he can't recall, is a constant reminder that he never cared to begin with-- every morning that I wake, I think back on yesterday, and my yesterdays never included him- and neither will my tomorrows.