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Two Things There are two things to tell. My father isn't coming to my wedding. And he told me in an email. After letting this sink in all day, it no longer seems to matter why he's not coming. One reason is health-related, but I think it's pretty much bogus. The other is financial, and really pissed me off all day - this is the man with the pool and the gazebo and the vintage jukebox (with 17,000+ 45s) and the brand new computer, and I'm sorry, how much does gas from Florida to Pennsylvania cost? Not much. Considering he was staying here, and there were no other related costs - well, a big old whatever to that. Nothing new on the scene - his money has always gone elsewhere, and while it doesn't make the difference like it did when my mother was cleaning houses and we were still on food stamps, it still crawls inside me and sits in a little, dark place. No, none of that really matters. What matters is that he didn't even have the balls to call and tell me - either that, or he's just an idiot and thought email would be just fine to use as a method of communication to tell me he's not coming to my wedding. If he'd called, he would have had to (as Greg said) take his medicine and have a grownup conversation and listen to exactly how hurt I am, how disappointed I am. Maybe he might have had to hear about how, after thirty years, I am just plain tired of coming last. Tired of being less important than my stepsiblings. Tired of hearing one thing and seeing another. Part of me knows that there is absolutely nothing I can do about this. I can't make my father a different person - can't make him the person I wish he was. I know this. I have known this for a very, very long time. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. The day will be filled with people who love me, filled with people who support me. I will be marrying my best friend. I'd like to say I won't notice my father's absence. I'd like to, but I can't. And that is what matters most of all. |