Painful Goodbyes- my latest on Catholicmom.com

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When I was 12 years old, my father came to visit.

It was a momentous event. My father lived on the other side of the country and I had only seen him a few times before that. His very existence was a mystery to me. It was the reaction of the others in our household that made me confused. My mother wasn’t with him, but she wanted us to be excited to see him. My grandmother seemed to hate him. She warned us that he might try to steal my sister and me away. That scared us. I had very mixed emotions about his visit.

But when Dad came, we had a very nice visit. He seemed gentle and kind, and I remember thinking that I didn’t need to be so guarded around him. But the peace was not to last. My grandmother got mad about some infraction and started to rage against him as the rest of us stood silently by. I felt paralyzed. When she finally told him to get the hell out of her house he turned to leave. I remember then begging my grandmother to let him stay and was stunned to find her anger turned on me. “Then you can get the hell out too.”

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