Our dance

I wanted to dance. I daydreamed about that special moment when the whole room knew the delight you had in me. I used to dream of that magical moment. You, taking my hands and placing them in yours, all while letting me dance on your shoes. We would laugh and twirl around the dance floor. I wanted you to tell me I was lovely and deserved to be pursued. I craved that desire to be treasured, to know that to you, I was enough. I wanted that moment more than anything growing up. Instead, I learned to know a man who was incapable of loving. Your inability to exert love in any form was taken as me being unlovable. Not enough. Not accepted. Not wanted.

I searched for that acceptance else where, in places and people, because I never got it from you.  You filled the loveless hole with money and acts, hoping that it was a viable substitute, but it wasn’t. You belittled my faith, my beliefs, and my desires. You triggered a vicious cycle that I am still trying to get out of. Your inability to love, simply love… me, us, anyone for who they are has created more scars and damage than you can comprehend. Instead of putting your energy and showing us your love, you put those resources into a selfish dream of yours. A dream that didn’t involve us. A reason to run from the love we wanted so desperately to give you.

Please stop running. Because with every step you take away from us, the more I’m torn between hating you and loving you. Turning my back on you and forgiving you.

As a child, I needed you to show me hope. That was your job. Your job was to show me the world was a safe place because you’d always protect me. I was supposed to know what love looked like because of your example. You were supposed to teach me how to dance…but failed.

My love for you is not measured in your successes and failures. I love you, because you’re my dad. Despite the disappointments, scars, and failures you’ve created in my life… I’m still waiting, waiting for our dance.