Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Thanks, Dad.

I don't mean this in a cruel way but my Dad sucks at being a Dad.  He just does.  I mean, no fault laid, it's just the truth.  It would be like me becoming an accountant or something - to a degree I'd make it by, but overall I would be horrible.  It would be a terrible position for me to be in.

Over a year ago my Mom passed away, a void that is still very real in my life to this day.  Sometimes I wonder how her absence has affected my Dad.  Mostly I just think that his naggy housekeeper is gone, or more correctly is now my sister.  Yes, there are other things that have affected him, I'm sure, but overall he just seems so blind to anything that doesn't directly benefit him in some way.

A puppy.  My Dad has a puppy that he kept tied up in the backyard when she needed to go potty.  Recently he decided that tying her out front would be better.  Honestly, it's just because he stacked a bunch of crap in the backyard that created an obstacle coarse of sorts to try to get to the, instead of cleaning, the front yard made more sense.

I asked him so many times to *please* be careful of the chestnut tree that I've been growing out there - waiting for the day when I would have a place of my own to plant it in.  In my heart I pictured the hubby and some kiddos playing by this tree for years to come.  More recently it just became the link between me and a memory of my Mom.  I've long given up on the dreams I used to have, so just hoping for a place of my own and a yard to plant it in was all I wanted.

About 5 or 6 years ago my Mom and I were pulling weeds in the back of her house and one 'weed' was actually connected to chestnut.  We laughed and planted it out front, hoping for the best.  The little tree thrived.  This past summer it was about a foot high and had several branches and leaves.

Last night, I fought back tears as I saw (for sure) that despite my pleads, my Dad tied the untrained dog in the front yard.  It's too late.  The tree that my Mom and I planted is now just about an inch tall nub that has been eaten to the ground.  It's gone and there is nothing that I can do about it.  I am so hurt.  I am so mad.  I am so upset. 

Me: (fighting back tears) She ate the whole tree. 
Dad:  (rolling his eyes - because he knew it, and I know he also felt a tiny bit sorry)
Me: It's gone.  I have taken care of that tree for years.
Dad:  Well, it wouldn't have matured in your lifetime.
Me:  That's not the point - my Mom and me planted that tree!
Dad: Well...

Then I left, and cried as I don't cry in front of people.

I think I'm forbidden to have nice things in my life.


Sarah said...

Oh Heidi I'm so sorry. Is there absolutely no chance it would grow back?

I love you.

Tina said...

Heidi... I am so sorry... I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. But...I love you, and I know it won't take the hurt away, or replace what has been lost, but
if you are willing, I'd love to plant something with you...

Alesa Warcan said...

...That sucks.

What is dead is dead... Perhaps you could retrieve a part of the root a make a neat earing or pendant out of it, a memento of your mom.
Not the same but better than nothing?

Heidi said...

Alesa - that's a great idea! I'll dig it up in the Summer. :)