Dad, Lew

This is my third marriage; although I tend to not count the first one if I don't have to. I got married the first time at the age of 16 (almost 17). We lived together less than three months, even though it took me almost a year longer to get a divorce.

But with three sets of in-laws, I've never called them mom or dad. I never even thought of it. The girls father, Anthony, had two sets of parents due to divorce. So I had Ella, Ann, Roger, and Norris; and that is what I called them. Some of them I really came to love, some of them I got along with, some I understood, and some I never did. But the names never changed.

It wasn't until Steve and I had been married for ten years or so that Lew called me on it. He asked me why I didn't call him Dad? All his other daughter-in-laws did; and had done some from almost the moment they met him. Why not me.

I was shocked. Honestly. I had no idea I didn't call him dad. No idea anyone else did. I really gave it no thought what so ever. Then I started trying to think of him as "dad" in my head and I kept drawing a blank. That is when I realized that in 40 years of living I have NEVER called a man Dad. I've had no Dad.

My biological father died in Vietnam when I was less than a year old. My mother married Ernest when I was two. Most of my life, I have thought of Ernest as many things; my tormentor, the person that hurt me the most often and deeply of any other living being, the father of my much loved siblings, my mothers husband and tormentor, the source of funds that supported me as a child, the person I had to go to when I needed something even though I knew I'd pay . . . but he was never Dad to me.

As a very young child I wasn't allowed to call him Ernest. I remember mom and I discussing what I was to call him one day while he was working. I refused, at two, to call him Dad. He would hit me every time I called him Ernest. So we decided I would call him Poppie. And I did until I was old enough to call him Ernest; ten or so.

While contemplating my lack of dadness with Lew, I thought surely there was some man who had played a father role in my life; a grandfather, uncle, neighbor. I thought about it for days before I had to admit there had not been. I can say with complete honesty, that no male ever treated me the way a father should treat a child. Well, the way I assume a father would treat a child; I'm a little shaky on the details.

While not in on the "abuse Misty" scheme, even my ex-father-in-laws were never really close. Not men I would just go to visit or call without having a reason or someone else with me. Odd, I never even thought about it until Lew and his dad question. But whether from their design or my own; I have managed to keep all my father-in-laws far enough away from me personally to avoid having to connect with them.

I've been able to avoid having a dad my entire life.

Talk about stubborn, when I decided as a two year old not to have a Dad, I wasn't joking around. lol

I honestly tried a few times, via email or during phone calls, to call Lew dad. And it was uncomfortable. I think it would have gotten easier as time passed. It wasn't until I was 23 that I told my mother I loved her; and it was awkward, felt strange. It took many times and several years before it rolled off the tongue easily. Before it didn't feel like a lie I was forcing out; and it wasn't, I love my mother still.

But all of a sudden I noticed that his emails to me were signed Lew. Even when he sends out emails to the entire bunch of kids, he signs them Dad, Lew.

To be honest, I can't remember if he has always done that . . . but I don't think so. If he changed how he addresses his emails it's just because he is trying to make it easier on me. He's that kind of guy. Although he probably doesn't understand my issue with "Dad" he will accept it and just sign his emails to me as Lew.

While I never realized how he signed his emails prior to our discussion a few years back, I notice every single time I get one now.

Regardless of what I call you, you are the closest thing to a dad I've ever had. I think . . . there should be a definition somewhere online -- I'll go look.