I met my wife Kris just before Kelly was born. I was living at the YMCA Lagrange. I was 6 months sober from alcohol and fresh out of rehab at Hinsdale Hospital. My relationship with my baby mama was over. The pain of leaving my unborn daughter behind ripped me apart inside, but the reality of the horribly destructive relationship I had with her mother was real and there was no chance of coming together. I could be a responsible father in raising her, but not there. It was not possible.
Kris was going through a painful break-up herself and we became friends quickly. We met at work. I was driving a forklift in a warehouse where she ran a freight forwarding company. We would talk on breaks and after work. Occasionally we would meet for a piece of pie at the local Bakers Square and share our battle stories. She knew I was newly sober and I kept no secrets from her. She was the first person I let into every dark corner of what was my life before then and what I wanted it to be.
She spoke often of her 3 children Andrea, Amanda and Scott. Andrea was 14, Amanda 7 and Scott 5. I admired her uncompromising dedication to her children and the pride she had in them. I got to meet Andrea first. She was the typical teenager in many ways with big dreams. She held the insecurity and self-consciousness about her appearance that all of us feel at that age. She could be described as Goth but she was much more than a mere label. We talked literature and Jack Kerouac, the injustices of war and the plight of the less fortunate. She had an engaging smile and a vocabulary that eclipsed her calendar age. Her father was not available to her and I was more than willing to step in and fill his shoes.
After 6 months of courting Kris and I moved in together. I was "insta-father"! I quickly asserted myself as the "man" of the house. I also had begun smoking pot again. I did not drink for 5 years while the kids were small. I am grateful for that. I didn't "smoke" in front of the kids either. I thought I was very responsible. Weed doesn't present itself like booze. It is much more subtle and laid back but it prevented me from growing emotionally and spiritually.
I still had anger issues and screamed a lot. When I was afraid it would come out as anger but it was well intentioned protective fear on the inside. I thought the world should be judging me on my intentions not my actions. What the kids saw was a Screaming Mimi period - no matter how pure my intentions.
Andrea was coming into age as a young woman and I thought it was my job to provide the "helpful guidance and constructive criticism" any good father would offer his daughter. While she bloomed I tried to keep her in the flower pot. "Do this..." "That's not right.." "You're smarter than that.." "What were you thinking?" was parroted almost daily from my ever helpful self. She isolated and shared very little with me for fear of my rebuke or lack of support. By the time she was 18 and ready to graduate she could barely stand to be in a room with me. Who could blame her? She graduated and moved down state to live with her uncle and to put as many cornfields between us as possible.
She is 25 now and we have grown back together slowly over the last 7 years. She is amazed to see that the anger and control issues have left me. They left a long time ago but she hasn't been here to see the changes. I have made many verbal amends to her and will spend my life being different. It is no surprise that she did just fine without my barrage of helpful life tips. She is a woman in every sense of the term. She is tough, street smart, kind and insightful. The past is gone and I can create 2 great tomorrows for every bad yesterday.
She got married this past September and moved to Germany. Her husband loves and respects her. He is attentive and supportive. A father could not ask for a better man to look after his daughterly treasure. As we danced at her wedding there were no ill feelings, only joy. She was radiant in her dress and her happiness filled the whole room that night.
She is home for the holidays and we have spent time together. A woman and her father, friends and confidants. We just made knish. She is Italian and I am Irish but we found a Jewish cook book while book shopping, a hobby we both share with great enthusiasm. We thought we would surprise her mom with some delicous knish. They may turn out great or terrible but I will love them either way.
I have made and will make mistakes as a father. Not only as an addict but as a man. I am not the guy she grew up with but she sees that I have grown up. The greatest thing about life is that you can start over anytime you want. It can be at the next sunrise or the next moment. I see a lot of the "good" me in Andrea and it makes me proud. I see her mother and grandmother in her much more. I am a lucky man and grateful for my past. It brought me to my today. I could talk for hours about how amazing my daughter is but I have to go and check the knish.
P.S. The knish came out great. She told me she loved me and hugged me tight. Oh how I love making knish!
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