The 'D'-word.

 My sister and I took the plunge and stayed overnight at my Dad's new house. My Dad isn't exactly the most talkative or sensitive people around, and because of this there is very little conversation and a hell of a lot of awkward silences. To be quite honest, the night was a disaster, and he ended up sitting in his room and not speaking to us for the rest of the night. Sometimes I just want to shout and yell at him, to tell him to wake up and realize he's got two daughters dying for his attention here! I give him all these chances to to change and so far he's just pushed us further and further away. Should it be this way? Should it be the child who has to make an effort to keep her family from becoming even more warped and complicated? I'm not even sure if he deserves the title as my father.  I wonder if after ignoring me and secretly despising me since the divorce with my mother, he'll still expect to witness my graduation from University, or to walk me down the aisle. I'm beginning to feel that there is far more deserving people in my family, who at least act like they want to be a part of my life.

It's not that I want to push him away. I want him to be my Dad. I don't want him to become some shadowy figure in the family photographs. When I grow up, I want him to be there when I get my first book published; I want him to be the one who gives me away on my wedding day. Is that so much to ask for? I just want my Dad to be a Dad again. For most of my childhood leading up to the divorce, he was depressed. He sat in the living room all day, snapping and yelling and telling me to shut up. It's the Dark Days of the Hutchison Family. Like if we don't mention it for long enough it'll just be forgotten. But I won't forget. I won't forget him lolling on the sofa, telling us how he wished he'd never had a family. I won't forget him slamming the fridge door and staring at my Mum like she was a piece of dirt on the floor. I won't forget the countless drama shows, and Christmas plays, and parents evenings, that he couldn't be bothered attending. I'm fed up of my family "pussy-footing" around the three main facts of our situation:

1. Dad was depressed. He wasn't "ill" or "having a rough time" like they told us before.

2. Dad chose to leave. He didn't do it for our sakes, he didn't think it was the best for us, he did it for himself. He didn't want to fight for us. He just wanted to leave and enjoy the single life, free from the bonds of family life.

3. Dad won't change. How long do we have to wait? He is totally happy with his mysterious Theresa and his fancy new flat in the city. Soon, he'll probably stop bothering to meet us at all. It'll be a half-hearted Christmas card every year.

Don't get me wrong here. I'm not one of those people who are blind to the fact I should be happy to have a dad at all. I've tried so hard not to lose touch with him. I've seen how hard my best friend was hit by the death of her father, and it has spurred me on to fight for a connection with my father. But now I'm beginning to think...When do I give up?