Sometimes you meet people and never think about the role they have played in your life until much later when you have a conversation about abandonment. My father had sent me on a bus from California to Massachusetts because he no longer wanted me around.  This is a story about gratefulness and redemption.

On the greyhound, I cried and looked out the window. What was I thinking? Well, I was a bad kid, and this is what happens. I did not think of the future or question anything. I was a child who traveled between places…a child without a home. My father told my relatives what time I would arrive and if no one picked me up, I should be dropped off at the nearest police station.

My mother married an older man.  I met my stepfather, George, at the age of 15. My stepfather picked me up from my aunt’s house. I did not know him, but he was nice to me. I was relieved after the craziness of recent past. My stepfather was a flawed person in some ways, he drank to excess and would say mean things, and break stuff.  They were toxic together, but less toxic than my parents. I learned from him. He took me chimney cleaning one day. He would chase me around with live crabs (I was deathly afraid) while laughing so hard. He would sing Dean Martin songs in a bar and sometimes I would go and listen. I left home eventually but I still considered him a good father figure who was there whenever I needed anything.

My own father would take fifteen years before he would talk with me. I wrote many times over the years and sent pictures without a single reply. I eventually made up with my father and we grew close. We grew apart again after moving and he went back to not talking to me. I will always love Pops.  It is a cycle that cannot be broken by me.  

My stepfather, George, helped me realize if he could love me, I was not so bad. I think of him sometimes and feel sad that he is not around. I am thankful to him for caring about the teenager who could do nothing right and being there when I needed a ride away from a police station.

I met someone who told me about his mother abandoning him. He wanted her to make the first move to reconcile. His life without his mother was filled with extended family, yet his mother’s absence filled him with loneliness.  I know it is hard to forgive and forget, but you should try. When we do terrible things, shame is a powerful demotivator.  I keep trying with my own father. I am still that lost teenager who rode on a greyhound without a certain destination.