My dad lives in Atlanta. No, my parents aren’t divorced or taking a break. He only works there.
6-7 years ago, my dad got a job in Santa Fe, and we were to move with him. But my mom refused to move out of Austin. There was a reason we moved back to Austin after a year in New York. So my dad traveled to Santa Fe for work and came on the weekends every 2 weeks or so. It wasn’t that bad. It was just me and my brothers with my mom….surviving.
As two years went on, my dad started showing up less. His company made software for the government and army, and handled information like Social Security numbers, which asked for undivided attention. He wouldn’t show up for months, and only called us when he got home. 2 o’clock in the morning. Seeing my dad at the end of the long months, was a treat for us. Every summer he was there, my family visited him and we were really glad we did. But my dad still worked and we wouldn’t see him until dinner at 10. I would play on my newly gifted DSi my dad gave me to not be bored while he was gone, not realizing when the sun set into the horizon, and my dad still wasn’t home.
The next year he moved to Kentucky, along with some stops in Chicago and Nashville, to check on project statuses there. The workload, according to my dad, was less than it was in Santa Fe, but for us it was longer. It was hard on my mom taking care of her crazy children. We tried to be good. But apparently we couldn’t. My mom would get mad. One tiny mistake and we were hearing it for the next whole week or until my dad showed up again, and she would go out and relax.
For my dad, it seemed like there was no rest. He worked for countless hours there, and then when he came back home, he would work some more. Cleaning the pool, helping with homework, driving us from class to class. The work never ended. And it had consequences.
My dad has early age back problems because of exertion. Sitting for long period of time is how the doctor said it. But our main income is my dad. He can’t take a break from his job. And so he works more. And more.
After a while in Kentucky, he moved to Atlanta, where he is now. We still see him the same number of times we did when it all began ( 9o out of 365 days average. Sometimes more. Sometimes less). We visit. During his birthday or the rest of ours. During winter for a couple of days. Spring for a week. Summer for a week or so. But it never seems enough.
I’m not writing for sympathy or empathy or any other “-pathy” words out there ( I think), but to simply get it out of my brain. It’s hard not seeing someone for long periods of time. Especially when they’ve been so close for the first half of your life. I know people who have military moms and dads and I know I could never share their pain or misery. My situation in way better than others. Even people who have moms or dads that travel. Sometimes they won’t see their dads or moms at their soccer games or any other special moments in their life. I’m lucky to have my dad be there for most if not all.
So the main reason I wrote this post was to say that seeing my dad for only 3 or so months of the year has made an impact on my family. We as kids are more independent, like scheduling things, finding rides or walking to classes, helping each other with homework, and helping my mom with her things. My mom acts like a single mother. Strong.
And no, we can’t live without our dad. He is our support and we show him love to tell him he’s not just their making money for no reason. We appreciate what we have. And I’d like to say that if my dad never worked elsewhere, my siblings and I probably would be different. Spoiled. Maybe even unaware of other’s situation.
So my dad being away may have been a little good. Just a little that is.
P.S. For some reason, getting my thoughts are hard. I may or may not have a disability ( I am dyslexic though). This post did not end up like how I imagined, but close enough.