The First Man I Ever Loved

Last night I dreamt that my dad called me up and said my name quite clearly. But after that everything he said came out garbled, as if he was a mental patient or a drunk in the last stages of alcoholism. I wasn’t even sure he was speaking english. The scene switched to his apartment, which was a grimy hole in the wall. I opened my arms wide to give him a hug, and he merely stood across the room, muttering something darkly beneath his breath, and shaking his head.


I’m always glad to awaken after such a dream and discover that it’s not real. Still, I felt quite shaken. My dad was such a vital part of my life, even during the 8 years during my childhood when I was forbidden contact with him. Probably especially because I lost him for those years, he became larger than life in my imagination. In my mind’s eyes I saw him charging unexpectedly into my crabbed little world, with all the fervor of a Knight in Shining Armor. I saw the gorgeous white horse he’d ride in on, and felt the heat of its breath creating goose bumps on my skinny bare arm as I stood tippy-toe to pet the area around the soulful chocolate-brown eyes. If horses can flare their nostrils, this one would definitely have flared nostrils in righteous indignation over my mom and stepdad’s outrageous treatment of me!


I used to lie on my bed, after having been banished to my room yet again for nothing, and think hotly, “If dad was here, this wouldn’t have happened! If I lived with him, he would never ground me to my room for nothing!” Oh, I couldn’t even properly imagine living with him. What would that be like, anyway? All I had was memories from the first 7 years of my life, and I knew of course how priceless they were. But I was older now. Would he feel the same about me if he were to see me at 9 or 12 or 13?

Some of my parts have never really recovered from the pain of those orphaned years. When my dad died about 7 years ago, it was a double mourning. I had to grieve not only the termination of his physical self, but those 8 lost years when the father-daughter bond was shattered nearly beyond repair.

Today I’m thinking of my dad and missing him with nearly the same fervor of heartsickness I experienced as only an abandoned child can.




2 thoughts on “The First Man I Ever Loved

  1. my dad left when i was a baby…10 months old. im so glad you at least got to know your father. i was kept from knowing about the letters he wrote…to who i dont know. mom? me? doubt it was me…
    anyway, its good you have that much. very good.

    i find it amazing that i can so relate to you. you with all your parts…and me with almost no parts…and yet i feel a bond. you and austin both… but i feel a connection with you. cant explain it. i barely have a person. i sort of am who im with. i dont know anybody else that is mpd.

    anyway…this antsyness is no fun. always comes on weekends. bleh

  2. a Knight in Shining Armor- I never ever thought of one but as you described it I could see him riding in and your eyes big with jubilation and the expression of “I knew it. I just knew it.” I could see him scoop you up and take you away from there. I could also hear the sadness in your voice because he didn’t or wasn’t able to come. I am sorry for that.

    I never dreamed of a Knight. I never watched shows with them in there so I think my idea of rescue was much different. I never knew anything about fairy godmothers or saw movies with a princess and a rescuer. the one thing I use to dream about was being rescued like the child from the movie Without A Trace. When they came and got that boy they scooped him up and put him in the police car. they escorted him home with their lights on…a trail of police cars moving across a bridge announcing that the boy was safe. I take a deep breath and close my eyes even now…even years after seeing that movie I still feel a great sadness that I never got that rescue. It would have been nice though.


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