How is it that a person who should have no control over your life, shouldn't even be a thought, can hurt you so badly? To say my father and I have a shitty relationship would be overly kind. But I've tried for so many years.

When I was born, my father couldn't handle being ignored by my mother so he slept with his secretary. My parents divorced when I was a year old. I spent the next eighteen years seeing Kevin (his name) and the slutty secretary that he married every other weekend. An example of her character: when I was three, I lost their son's shoe and she told me if I didn't find it, I would never see my father again.

Very traumatic for a three-year old.

For eighteen years, we did this every-other-weekend-game, but we always went to my grandmother's where there were always cousins around to play with. I never had one-on-one time with my dad, so really, I didn't know him from Adam.

Long story short, my mother and I moved in with my grandparents when I was a baby, so my grandfather is the man who raised me. He is who loved me and was there for me. When he died, I realized that I had no father. I swallowed my pride and reached out to this man who scared me so much. I wrote him a letter, spilling my guts. I told him that I'd just lost the only father I knew, that I wanted to get to know him; I wanted to spend one-on-one time with him.

After that, he came to pick me up and we went out for breakfast. For two hours we sat there. He made me feel like I was just an inconvenience. That was it.

I turned eighteen. He stopped calling on my birthday. He was off the hook for child support, so why did he need to be a father?

I got married for the first time at nineteen, about which he found out through the family grapevine. He called and gave me a lecture: I was too young to be married, was I pregnant? (I wasn't pregnant.)

My grandmother, the woman who helped raise me, died in January 2001. I cared for her until she died. Since he'd been close to my grandparents when he was married to my mother, I felt I should be courteous and call him to let him know. During that call, right after I told him she'd died, the first words out of his mouth were, "Why haven't you called me?"

Are you fucking serious? A woman who raised me, my second mother, is dead, and you make it about you.

"Whatever," I said, "just be at the funeral."

In April of that same year, I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter. I waited until December, the month she was due, to tell him. Again he lectured me: I was too young. I was twenty-three and had been married four years. I told him I'd call when the baby was born. When she was born on December 24th, I called but thanks to the holidays, a visit didn't work out. He came to see her in February. From then on, we saw him once a year.

Then, I found out I was pregnant with my second daughter in April 2004. My ex-husband "accidentally fell into" a nurse and got her pregnant, too. Oops! I didn't want to tell my dad about the pregnancy and the mess that was my life. So I didn't. He found out from an uncle two days after my daughter was born on Christmas Day.

He called me then, berating me for not telling him about what was going on. I actually cried apologizing to this man. He asked what I had done wrong to make my husband cheat. I let it slide. He was my father and I wanted some sort of relationship.

After that, we didn't talk for many years. I established a new life with my current husband. We have our son from my husband's previous relationship deal with the devil. Life went on. I kinda forgot about my father until I needed help with a school loan. My ex-husband had ruined my credit with gambling debts and my current husband ruined his credit in a custody case with the devil. I turned to the only person I know.

I was told, "No. Maybe if you'd gone to school instead of getting married. Why don't you call more?" He'd put my brothers through college and that is what I got from him. Whatever. But I still promised to keep in touch for birthdays and holidays.

Until his last birthday. He didn't call me on my birthday, which was a kick in the gut. I made sure to call him on the only number I have: his work number. Since he takes his birthday off every year, I didn't speak to him. I left a nice message instead.

He called back a couple of days later, angry and mean. My mother and husband agreed: NO MORE contact with him. He hurts me too much. He doesn't deserve the power I give him.

I don't know how he can still hurt me like that three-year old girl; afraid she will never see her daddy again. I keep thinking that he'll see that I'm his only daughter and care. He'll see I love him. That has to mean something right?

The child in me still asks the questions same questions: Why doesn't he want me? What's wrong with me? Why can't he be my father? Why doesn't he want to be my father?

Why doesn't he love me?