My Daughter Hates Me: Lastly - Where does it end?

When Samantha turned eighteen and half I called her. I decided not to call on her birthday because it would have been selfish to ruin her day. I decided to call after the holidays for the same reason.

It was an awkward, pause filled conversation - I think we were both waiting to see how far the other one would go. I was concerned about saying so much that I would overwhelm her with emotions. As much as I want to have a relationship with her I also don't want to overwhelm her with words and feelings and thoughts. Any relationship that develops needs to be on her time not mine.

We've talked twice on the phone in the year and half since then. Mostly we communicated via text messages, email, and MySpace. It wasn't going great but for nearly a year it was going - which was all I was hoping. I worked hard not to flooding her with questions about her life or bury her in information about me and my life. I sent her the same general info you'd send to or ask of a friend. On long trips I'd sit in the hotel or the restaurant and we'd trade 30 or 40 text messages. I loved every minute of it.

Of course, once Samantha's mom and stepdad discovered we were communicating the wheels came off the wagon. I was a little perplexed at why I wasn't hearing from her. First she unfriended me on MySpace. Then Twitter. Then she stopped returning text messages. Changed her phone number. Then she stopped returning emails.

In doing my research I discovered her mom and friended her on MySpace and her stepfather created a Twitter account. The only person either of them followed was Samantha. Out of distress and anger I reasoned it out with someone else. The reality is Samantha's mother and stepfather are paying her phone bill. She lives with them. They provide a roof over her head and money.

When Samantha was six months old, Kellie's mom stood before the two of us and gave Kellie an ultimatum - choose now. Essentially, Kellie's mom told Kellie to either choose a relationship with me or with them. She couldn't have it both ways. She made the reasonable logical choice of any scared young mother.

I imagine that is the lesson Kellie passed onto Samantha. It's one or the other. Although I could be wrong but something changed almost overnight. Perhaps it is the sins of the parents being passed onto our children.

Five years ago I married a beautiful woman and gained two stepsons – instant family. She married me in spite of my past errors, blunders and gaffs. She loves me in spite of my failings and, “loves me for who I am today, not who I was.” I went to great lengths to fully disclose the amends I’m still attempting to make and the reasons. She deserves to know the truth because we are sharing a life and a love.

The transition for all of us has been difficult. Leo is fourteen now and blithely unconcerned about the workings of the universe. Although, he is still struggling with his mother’s divorce and is having difficulty with the change. The other boy, Alex, is twenty, lonely and angry. He is the same age as my daughter and is the All-American boy.

Losing my daughter has made me especially sensitive to my role. On more than one occasion I have defended my wife’s ex-husband’s choices. Who am I to be casting stones? I made it clear to the boys I have no interest in being, replacing or undermining their relationship with their dad. I’m Sean. I refuse invitations to parent-teacher conferences and band concerts until after their father has declined the invitation.

At times I’m nothing more than a chauffeur or an ATM machine. On more than one occasion, I’ve thought I was failing as a husband and step-father (my insecurities get the best of me sometimes). My wife tells me that is normal and I’m doing great. I think she is just saying that but truthfully, I’m extremely grateful for the encouragement and support. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to be a husband and stepfather. Because of my past, I didn’t believe I’d ever be given the chance.

As my partner, I value her perspective and asked her to read through my story As a parent, divorcee, and award-winning journalist I value her perspective. She hates this article. It made her sad. She argues it is to dark and unforgiving. It should be more cheerful. She thought it lacked a proper ending.

“It lacks closure,” were her exact words.

I agree. It is sad. And unfortunate. And tragic. And heart wrenching. It has all the elements of a Greek tragedy. I wish I could write some beautiful ending that makes everyone feel good. I wish there was some way to give the closure my wife wants, Kellie deserves, and Samantha (I hope) will eventually seek. I wish there was closure simply so I could sleep at night without wondering about our fates.

In the meantime, my amends to Samantha is to be a better man then yesterday. Sometimes, I am. Sometimes, I’m not. I am more often then I use to be. If, and when, she knocks on my door, I’ll be ready. Should something happen and I’ve passed from the scene I hope my family and friends can tell her the truth without embellishment – “He was a fine man who loved you everyday.”

That is the amends I live towards. It is the “best” I can offer today.