When my father came to visit for a month but gave me less than 5 hours and lunch on his way between my sisters and his girlfriend, I didn't argue. And when he asked if I was disappointed, I didn't answer his question. All I said was that I understood. Because I knew that he wasn't asking for advice, he was asking for permission or forgiveness. And I did understand. And I did both permit and forgive.

I wondered later if I was supposed to feel something more than disappointment hedged in with resignation. I have been alive for 29 years and 138 days. Not once in all of those days has my father ever learned to enjoy doing something he doesn't want to. At least not for me. I am the oldest daughter, the confidante. The oldest, boldest one that he knows never lies and never leaves anything important unsaid no matter how many times he wished I would. So he doesn't lie to me either even though sometimes I've wished he would. He doesn't think the truth ever hurts me. In his case, it seldom does anymore. And so, He has never been surprised by how much he enjoyed something despite having reservations about it and I do not ask for what my father does not want to give. If he wants to leave, there is no point in being hurt that he does not want to stay.

When I was younger, I sifted through my memories trying to figure out how it seemed that my father could both love me and not love me at the same time. My father does not have the sacrificial love often attributed to parents. I wish there was a different word for his type of love because then it would make sense when I say, "my father loves me but he doesn't love me like that." Now that I am nearly 30, I do not ask for sacrificial love. I only ask for what my father wants to give. The only sacrifice he's ever made was agreeing to stay a father when he did not want or expect to be one.

In the end, it is most accurate to say, "my father loves me, but he will never love me more than himself." He will never give something that hurts him. I can trust this. So I feel disappointment when spending time with me is a sacrifice he's not able to give. And I feel frustration that things couldn't be different. But I feel neither anger nor a will to ask for something more. I have had 3 decades to learn how to read the weather of this man and it never goes well to ask for more than he is willing to give. His ability to self sabotage and make everyone miserable testifies to the strength of his subconscious and his selfishness. And no matter how little or how much he loves me, he will never love me more than himself. And on the days that he does not love me well, I accept that this is because he does not love himself enough to also love me.

I don't know if this is the way a daughter is supposed to feel about her father. But I don't think that's the point. Can you change the moon? Can you postpone the weather? No. You dress accordingly and do not ask for what is not freely given.