Communication

I've known for a long time that communication is an important part of any relationship. In fact, I feel that there is no relationship without communication. Perhaps that is why it has ceased to worry me that my so-called relationship with my dad has pretty much gone down the toilet. There never really was a relationship because we never had communication. Oh, I tried. I tried when I was younger. But unfortunately, I came to realize that my dad only heard what he wanted to hear, and never what I was trying to tell him.
For example, when I was 14 years old (or thereabouts) I went on an overnight camping trip with my two best friends. This overnight camping trip was through my friend's church. There were other people on this camping trip, including guys. I didn't think anything of it. I had a great time. My two best friends and I hung out the entire weekend, hiked, shared a tent, and had great adventures (we almost hiked into a buffalo . . . literally), but when I got home, my enthusiasm for the trip was quickly squashed when I decided to tell my dad about my fantastic weekend. I was telling him about some exciting thing, I'm sure in an excited and animated way, only to be interrupted with this, "There were boys on this camping trip?" I was astounded. I hadn't really thought about it before. It wasn't an essential part of my story. In my silence, he proceeded to get angry and tell me that he never would have let me go if he had known that boys would be going, too. That was my childhood relationship with my father. I learned after that experience to be very selective in what I told my father. If it was something really important to me, I would tell my mother, but never my father. If I couldn't escape mentioning something to him, I was very careful in what I said, only telling the exact facts and necessary details.
That is the time that I can really say that my communication with my father ended. There wasn't really communication with him before that, but after that vivid experience, I quit trying.
That is, until my brother died. After my brother died, I realized how fragile life really is. He was there one day, gone the next, with no warning that such a drastic change was going to take place. I wanted to revitalize my relationship with my dad. I attempted to tell him so, and although he agreed that he wanted a better relationship with me, I don't think either of us really knew how to go about it. I was already a way at school. He doesn't like to talk on the telephone. It seemed an impossible situation. Then I left for my mission. I was half-way around the world with the only form of regular and consistent communication that of writing emails or letters. At first I didn't hear from my dad at all. My mom was really good about writing me. Elizabeth got good at writing me after I chewed her out for not writing me. Sara, although she eventually wrote me every week, did not write much, so I guess I can't say that she was good at writing me. However, although my dad didn't write me weekly, he did better then I ever expected. I considered progress to have been made, no matter how minuscule.
Then, less than a year after I returned from Russia, my mom passed away. Although we had a little warning, it was definitely not enough. We were all shocked by my mother's quick passing. I figured that my father would realize the importance of family (that isn't to say that he thinks family is unimportant, but knowing the importance of something is different than REALIZING the importance of it) and step up, become a father, a real father. But the opposite happened.
The day that my mother died, I became an orphan. Not officially, but that is how it felt/feels. Perhaps the problem is that my father never learned how to be a real father. For him, being a parent means physically providing for his family. Although that is important, being a father is more than just bringing home the bacon. It means being there emotionally. He never was. I only remember my father saying one nice thing to me while growing up. But that isn't much of a surprise, he was gone so often. He was never interested in what I did in school, or what my dreams and aspirations were. Or if he was interested, he wasn't interested enough to ask me about it. Perhaps my mom just passed the information on, and he was content to hear about our lives, rather than participate in them, but for me that is not enough. That is not what it takes to be a father.
So, after my mother died, I again wanted a better relationship with my father, but I didn't know what to do about it. I felt and still feel that it is up to him. He has to take a step, make an effort. And here is where problems in communication come back into the picture. I have to say that a lot of my dad's family is bad at communicating. Sometimes, at least when it comes to them, I find myself having the same difficulty. On my part, I know the reason why, I don't feel like I can communicate with them. And so no communication exists. My older sister lives with one of my dad's sisters. Whenever that sister wants to pass information on to me, or wants to ask me something, it is done through my sister. I'll get a call from my sister (which rarely happens). That is why, when I graduated, it was really annoying that my aunt, who said she would be at my graduation, didn't come because she hadn't gotten the information about my graduation in time. But she has my phone number. She could have called. She could have asked me herself. But, communication is not a strong suit in that family. For me, that makes me feel like I can't call her directly and ask her things, or tell her things. After all, she is a great deal older than me. Shouldn't she be setting the example?
This is ending up a lot longer than I expected. But I have just one last thing to say about communication. The most recent display of lack of communication didn't actually happen with me. My younger sister who is living with my dad right now told me about it. Apparently my dad went out of town. He told her a couple hours before he left. This is by no means a solitary incident. In fact, my dad rarely tells her anything. She usually finds out that he is going out of town from other people, or when she overhears him telling someone else. There is no communication. There is no relationship.