The phone call

I was in Vancouver for the last little while.  I went to have dinner with my mom, and on the way back, I noticed that I had missed a call...with a 902 area code (the area code for Halifax).  There was a voicemail which confirmed my suspicion...it was my dad.  This was the first I had heard from my father in almost 2 years.  It was hard to tell on the message, but I'm pretty sure he had a couple beers down range when he called.  The message went something like this,

"Hey kid, It's Rick...your dad.  I'm calling to say hi and that I'd like to hear your voice.  I have some good news and some not so good news.  Please give me a call back at this number...it's...hold on a f#cking second, it's around here somewhere...well you probably see it on your phone...f#ck...here it is....902-xxx-xxxx.  So give me a call; love you kiddo" *click*

Now my mom, being the insidiously curious type, insists that I tell her what he said in the message.  So I do and then I start the mental process of steeling myself for calling my dad back.  As I previously mentioned in another post, one of my 101 goals was to tell my dad why I don't talk to him anymore.  I called him back.  He was happy to hear from me and very apologetic about the lack of communication over the last couple years.  He was very emotional and when he started to redirect some of the blame, I stayed strong and shut that down, making sure he understood that there was nobody to blame but himself.  Then I said that if he wants a relationship that he MUST phone at least once a month and he MUST be sober for those calls and if he can't commit to that, then I will no longer entertain a relationship with him.  He agreed...then he told me the bad news.  My uncle is on his deathbed with only a couple months to live.  That's horrible news since I really liked my uncle.  He was always good to me, as was his wife and my cousin.  So already in a state of shock and emotional upheaval from learning that, my dad tells me that he's been diagnosed with cancer in his left eye, and it's at the back of the eye...now I really feel like shit.  Luckily it's treatable, but he'll lose the vision in that eye, if not the whole eye altogether.  He starts a 5 day radiation treatment on Monday...my fingers are crossed that he makes it out ok.

After he tells me all that, then he goes into more promises about coming out to visit, etc. etc....rhetoric that he's been spewing for the last 30 years that just never sees fruition and that took me from emotionally distraught right back to pissed off again.  Cancer or no, I let him have it with both barrels.  I told him that I want to NEVER hear another empty promise from him again.  He can say he's coming out when he has a ticket in hand and NO SOONER!  We ended the conversation there with him promising to call on Tuesday after a consult with the Oncologist...and to my surprise, he actually did call.  Maybe my relationship with my dad isn't so bleak after all.  Only time will tell, but I think I may give him one...last...chance.

The next blog post will be funny, I swear!

My Dad

So it's 2:24am and I've had a few to drink, so this should be a perfect time to make a blog post.
Earlier in my blog I talked about how I like my step-dad more than my real dad.  Some of you may have found this a bit odd, but let me set the record straight about my history with my dad.
My parents split when I was too young to really remember.  As part of the divorce agreement, my mother got full custody as long as my dad didn't have to pay child support; a classy move if ever there was one.  My mom didn't keep me from my father though; quite the opposite in fact.  He used to phone me, albeit infrequently, and I used to go out to Halifax for a while in the summer.  I would stay with my dad, who was living with his mom.  He would go off to work every day, so I spent a lot of time with my grandmother, a frail, old woman who I still miss.  As I grew older, my mother introduced me to some of the reasons she left my dad, primarily alcoholism.  I've had the stigma of being "at risk" for alcoholism all my life, and maybe me posting this while a little drunk doen nothing to deter that notion.  Luckily, I've never become like my dad in that regard; but I digress.  Undeterred, I decided when I was 12 that I wanted to live with my dad.  My mom tried to talk me out of it, but in the end my mind was made up and she supported me.  The year that I spent in Halifax was...tumultuous.  I didn't have my own room for a while.  My dad was surprisingly absent most days and nights.  He met a woman and they decided to get married.  The "moving into a new place" phase took over 2 months.  I was living in the old apartment, my dad in the new one.  I quickly learned how to fend for myself, and thanks to my mom, I had those skills.  Despite this, I still had a great relationship with my dad.  At the end of that year, let's just say that I did a few bad things and he ended up shipping me back to my mom in Vancouver.  After that, I got some phone calls from my dad, but I didn't see him again until I graduated High School.  I saw him again a couple years later when I was doing some training in Halifax for a month. 
A few years later, my son was born...my dad never came out to see him.  Now him being an alcoholic, I understand that he doesn't have a lot of money; he spends most of it on booze; I was still hurt though.  I've been back out to Halifax a few times over the years, and for a while, it seemed that he was getting his s#it together and might actually come out to visit his grandson.  My son was 5 years old and had never met his grandfather and it was purely because he made no effort to communicate with either him, or me.  Now I'm in a position to think about how much should my son get to know my dad.  How much effort should I put into it?  I look back at my life and realize that even though there were a handful of good times, I've lived my life mostly disappointed at my own father.  Is that the kind of man I want getting to know my son?  Do I want his infuence permeating my life or my son's?  So far the answer has been no, but he is family.  The last time he called it was New Years Eve 2009 and he was piss drunk.  I told him that if he wanted to talk, he should call me back tomorrow when he's sober.  I haven't heard from him since.  It kind of saddens me that my relationship with my dad has gone straight to the s#itter and that my son will never know his grandfather.  I do like the fact that my son will never have to live with my dad disappointing him like he disappointed me.  All I have to worry about now is not following in my fathers footsteps. 
Now that has been kind of negative.  My dad did have some good qualities.  He was a pretty damn good cook.  He had a boisterous and low brow sense of humour.  While my mom taught me wit, my father taught me toilet humour.  In person, my dad was as generous as he could afford to be.
In the final examination, despite all he's done and hasn't done, I miss my dad.  I wish he was a better person.  I wish that my son could get to know his grandfather.  I wish he could get off the booze.  I wish he had a better life.
Now contrast that with my step-dad.  He has always dispensed good advice and has always looked out for my best interests and the best interests of my son.  He helps out whenever and whereever he can; this also extends to my friends to which he evidenced last week when JR got a hotel room and he used his sway as a Diamond member to ensure they treated him exceptionally well.  He has gone out of his way to drive me to and from the ferry; not a priviledge I abuse at all.  I consider it a luxury to get a ride.  I know he's given my sister more rides than I can even comprehend.  He works damn hard, and frequently away from home, but still makes the time to make my mom happy.  He enjoys wine in moderation and is always happy to share a bottle with me.  He always acts in an upstanding way and sets a good example for anybody to follow.  We haven't always agreed, especially early on, but I've grown up and I've come to respect him and his opinion.
It's now 3:08am...I need sleep.