In His Eyes
Growing up I heard rumors that my dad was not my real father. I truly did not understand why my cousins, aunts and uncles would whisper such words during their conversations. I simply thought they were all confused, until that dim day my father threw a javelin straight through my heart and pierced it into a million pieces. I heard my father say, “She is not my daughter”, after an argument with my mother. They were arguing about him treating me differently than my sister. Honestly, I did not notice that my father treated me differently from my sister. I felt confused, hurt and rejected. I was a teenager and I thought if I could make my father proud of me, he would accept me as his daughter.
My dad is a carpenter and for years I watched him get up at the crack of dawn, drink two cups of coffee, eat a small breakfast, put on his work boots and a hat, and then head out the door to help build the Denver Art Museum or the Coors Brewing Company. After work my father would come home, mow the lawn, plant trees and or flowers and then fix things around the house.
I quickly picked up my dad’s work ethics. I thought if I worked as hard as my father did, I would be just like him and he would be proud of me and accept me as his own. Crazy I know, but I went to work early, left late, and even worked on the weekends. Hell, I worked my ass off just to hear my father say I am so proud of you. I got a lot of promotions and excellent opportunities, but I never heard those words come out of my father’s mouth.
Two years ago on a Thursday afternoon, I asked my father if he would bid on a job for me. I worked for an entrepreneur and she was in the process of building a restaurant. The restaurant building needed serious repairs. My father was happy to submit a bid because he was retired and after all he lived to work. I remember this day as if it were yesterday. The weather was typical Colorado weather, cool in the morning and hot and sunny at noon. I was having a perfect...