The Wolf

The song "Daughters" by John Mayer is one of my favorite songs. It is on my playlist, and if you have never heard it, take a moment to listen to it. It is a song that I listen to and sing often, because it helps to explain why I am the way I am, and why I strive to be a good mother. Let me explain:
I get to see my Dad about once a year, usually for two days, if that long. This year he is coming to visit at Christmas time, and is staying for a week. His visits are always a source of an inexplicable amount of joy and pain, for me. I know that sentiment seems kind of nonsensical, but my relationship with my Dad has morphed over the last 17 years. The first 12 years of my life with him, were pretty much the standard makings of a father/daughter relationship. After I turned 12, and he decided to pursue a different lifestyle, separate from our family unit, things have never been the same, physically or emotionally.
I struggle to find the words capable of painting a picture of the tormented feelings that I have for him. Perhaps if I share a recurring childhood nightmare that I feel relates to our situation, it will give you a better idea of what I am forced to relive during his visits.
The nightmare was always the same. I was a girl of six years, my mom was always in the house, unaware of what was going on outside. There was a shack in the backyard that housed a werewolf. In my dream, the werewolf captures my Dad and is dragging him away. I am crying and screaming out for him. I can hear him saying, "I'm sorry, baby. I love you." I cannot move to try and save him. I just have to watch him and cry. Then the dream ends. I can remember the very first time I had that dream. It was the first time I can remember feeling utterly helpless. I wanted so badly to save my dad from the wolf, but could do absolutely nothing.
I had that dream when I was about six, and had no idea of what was to become of our family. Yet the message is still evident every time he is with me and then leaves. I am helpless. I can have my dad for a few days, before the wolf claims him again. It is always the same wolf, his choice to pursue happiness through means of a homosexual lifestyle. I know his pursuit of carnal pleasures has evolved into more than that now that he has a steady boyfriend. But to me, it all boils down to just the simple indulgence in pleasures of the flesh. He has willingly shared that mentality with me. The fact that he needs to do whatever it is that makes him happy. The man that first taught me the principles of the Bible, and the value of selflessness, now sharing with me something utterly contradictory to his original beliefs. How is a daughter to gladly accept those changes, and act as if she is unaffected by it all?
I play the part of doting daughter during his visits for the sake of my children, and my sanity. We have fun, and I am honestly happy to see him. But any joy that I am allowed to feel is always overshadowed by the knowledge that it is fleeting, and will be replaced by the same emptiness and feelings of abandonment after he is gone. I will once again be the little girl, standing helplessly as her daddy is pulled away by the wolf. He will tell me that he loves me, and he is sorry to be leaving, but he will go anyway. I will be left to pick up the pieces of my heart and move on until the next visit.
I have wondered so many times if that nightmare was prophetic in some way. But I've come to the conclusion that it was just coincidence. However, it does play in my mind countless times. Whenever a visit approaches, and I feel the anticipation of his arrival and ultimate re abandonment, I try to fight my regression. I almost wish he didn't come at all, so I wouldn't have to go through the anguish. But I cannot bring myself to separate from him. No matter how painful it is, the little girl in me still longs to have her daddy. She still wants desperately to save him from the wolf. I have to quiet her each time I say goodbye, because she is crying out for him so loudly in my head, that it almost becomes too much to bear. The adult in me sometimes wants to say the words, "Don't ever come back." But the little girl so badly wants to tell him to stay, and we can be like we used to. We can keep the wolf at bay, together. She wants to promise him a happy family life. But the adult knows that we will never have it again, because other things are of more importance to him.
That fact alone makes me sob like a child after he has gone. All that Daniel can do is hold me and apologize for not being able to fix it. He feels almost as helpless as I do, and I hate myself for it. I wish that I could be callused to the situation. I so badly want to be able to say goodbye to him, and just resume life as usual. But the little girl in me will never allow that to happen. So I have my moment of emotional catharsis, as Daniel comforts me, and then I put the little girl to bed until next time. Daniel is always so confused by my sadness, but tries to grasp the concept anyway. It angers him that I have to endure such an emotionally torturing process. But he knows that I will do it again every year, and he promises to be there with me when it happens.
So while many others are enjoying the beauty and sacred meaning of the Christmas season, I will be playing "family" and trying to enjoy the week that I have with my dad, before the wolf returns.
I never want to put my kids through the things that I am forced to go through. I remember that every time the going gets rough and I'd like to hop a train to nowhere. I know that they will always love me, no matter what choices I make, because I love my dad deeply, despite the pain. But I refuse to let my selfishness get in the way of the vision I have for my kids' future. I will not allow for emotional instability to be apart of that future because I make a choice that represents only my best interests. To me, that the extreme opposite of what good parenting is about.