There is a logic behind my decision to post
childhood pictures including my father. Something has come to my knowledge
that has to do with my public image. I wish to undo the wrong he has been doing to my name and reputation and, in the eyes of many who are important
to me, to make my absence conspicuous.
I called my
father on the phone at his workplace at The Canadian Press in Montreal ten years ago, SEVENTEEN years
after I had last seen him or heard from him. I'll never forget the odd
reception. "You are very brave to
have called me", were his first words. No tone of surprise, no words
of joy, nothing to express sentiments of any sort. I was ecstatic with joy to
have learned I had a little brother and a sister. I had been accustomed to
being an "only" child and had always wanted to have siblings. I
conveyed my wish to keep in touch with him and my siblings.
He eventually
wrote me a letter by post explaining he had been "quite busy at work"
and had had "family matters" that had kept him occupied. He also
recounted the last time he had seen me was when he had been studying in Europe for six months. He wrote he was re-married
and had two children. I wrote him an email, attaching photos of myself and
asked him about my half-siblings. I asked him their names. He never replied.
I wrote him
again in 2010 and we exchanged about 30 emails. Over the course of the oddest
and most disturbing correspondence I have ever had he threw me a few lines
every few days or so. He did not even call me by my name as he did when he
raised me but called me GAR (my
initials) as one would not even call a dog. He did not ask once how I
was and no questions were asked about me or my life. He steadfastly ignored any
of my questions related to my half-siblings. His behaviour was very odd, to say
the least. For some strange reason he continued
to keep their names secret from me, their own sister.
For over a month
of this strange correspondence he continuously promised to help if there
was any way he could be of help thus leading me to believe and hope for almost two months that he would help (like a cruel, vicious game) yet he never did, instead he vanished, never
to reply to any of my emails again. This was his "Merry Christmas"
wish to me.
Though by
Christmas – one of the darkest I had ever had – I was aware he had irrevocably
thrown me out of his life, snatching the last remnants of hope that had been
drifting with me all these years as whispering companions and in spite of my
having already fully realized the permanency of his character, on the Day after
Christmas I grasped a disturbing new image of him.
He wrote and published
an article on the Day after Christmas.
He mentioned
everything I had not received from him during all those years… (not even when
he would have had a chance to make up for lost time. He had no other children for almost ten years after he left me)…of parenting, of the love of a father even from the
farthest places of the universe and even of the same stress he himself had put
me through. The story, revolving around a father and his
job, went on to delve into his efforts to be a good parent even from far. I was speechless, I felt
physically ill. It felt like “in your face, girl”.
In the meantime
I also wrote to my uncle (I last saw him as a young child) from my father's
side. I came to discover my family from my father's side had been told a
decidedly different story than the truth.
Therefore left with no help from my father a difficult two years was before me. In 2012 I opened an account on Twitter. Not long after I started tweeting my father (the "Space Guy"...) suddenly went "into hiding" by making his previously public tweets private and thus becoming one of few (if any) reporters who tweets secretly. What could a little girl of five possibly have done to her father that he so obviously banishes her from his life?
But if the
biological father I wrote emails to in 2010 had never wanted any paternal
relationship with his first daughter from his first marriage,
if indeed he was never the father I still hoped he might
be...suddenly my whole
correspondence of those two months, my desperate
pleadings for help from an indifferent stranger void of any emotions, his
uncaring, ice-cold demeanor towards me all my life sent chills down my spine…