Buried

Man, what is this feeling? What does it mean when you can't even identify your reaction?

I just saw and interacted with someone I haven't spoken to in years, someone I've spent so much time being angry with that I'm having a hard time forgiving myself for smiling. But this is exactly what I wanted. Ugh. Okay, I'm forgetting that there's even a possibility that any other person will end up reading this and should explain.

The two girls that I regularly babysit, who are a part of my family, have divorced parents. I was friends with their parents before the girls were born. When the oldest was two and the other about two months, their dad separated from their mom. When he told me, I felt a bit more broken. I've been pretty furious with him. Their family was supposed to make it; he was supposed to always be there and be the dad that those girls deserve.

Now, five years later and I've just come face to face with him, smiled warmly, and we chatted about his five-year-old. I invited him inside, encouraged his daughter to show him her drawings from the day, and genuinely tried to be a little bit his friend again. But about fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive until now, half an hour since I saw him, I've had this burning, acidic, boiling feeling in my stomach. Maybe it's undissolved anger bubbling to the surface, or an ulcer I subconsciously reserved for his return into my life.

I've been preparing for this. I wholeheartedly believe that the girls should have their father in their lives, that there should be some very genuine good feelings towards his impact and presence in their childhood. I also want to be someone they feel they can talk to about him, good or bad. I want to be a resource when they're pissed at him later, someone who can relate and listen and really be there. Oh, but this is hard. This physically hurts.

Part of it just has to to with him and me, though. Part of it is just missing a friend and the empty hole that sometime shows up when someone you care about disappoints you. He's still the same person. He loves his daughters so much, and I respect him for that.

I feel a little bit like a time traveler, looking over myself and my siblings and assessing my father's presence in our lives. This feeling is all too familiar, but somehow more potent when I'm feeling it for these innocent, developing little girls. These girls that deserve to always, always know that they are worth all the love in the world. Ugh. I guess things can't stay buried. I guess life has more connections than we're prepared for. I'm so tired of feeling angry but it's way too hard to let go, let the unresolved melt and warm me. I can't trust.