Chocolate Stitchz

For as long as I can remember, my biological father (being technical is necessary here) has sent me Kmart’s Christmas bear of the year EVERY CHRISTMAS! Okay, so now I’m 26 and the excitement that I once had as a big brown-eyed little girl receiving my Christmas bear has turned into resentment—they have now become a symbol that my father doesn’t know who I am at all. Now understand that I can probably count on one hand the number of times I have seen my father in the last 20 years and in the meantime he has made little effort to get to know me. And while I understand the argument that he could just not send me anything at all—I would probably appreciate that a little more because it would be more true to the nature of him that he has forced me to grow accustomed. Every once in a while I’ll receive some sort of empty promise from him that is always preempted with some sort of statement meant to express how broke he is currently but “…when I get a steady job…” and I’m supposed to smile and get all giddy because “my daddy said…” like when I was a little girl. Please! Now, a handful of visits, 23 bears and several broken promises later I am hardened. Promises mean nothing to me and my trust is hard to come by. I realize that everyone is broken in their own way and this just happens to be the source of mine. I am in no way offering it as a crutch or an excuse, but merely a confession of my cross—the part of me that I am constantly working to fix…to heal. This is also the reason why gifts as an expression of love don’t communicate love to me at all—that is not my “love language.” I have grown to realize that time is probably the most precious and valuable gift that anyone on this earth can give. Love is a verb. And while it did take some effort to drive all the way to Kmart to make that oh so important purchase with me in mind, after 26 years of the same purchase the effort seems to be canceled out and turned into something mechanical—requiring little or no thought whatsoever. Love is a verb…and the truest emotional manifestation only comes through the action [verb] that is required to get there. Shared experiences, putting the needs of another before your own, selflessness (and not completely neglecting oneself), and a willingness to understand how to best communicate love so that the other person gets it—so that they feel the “fruits of your labor,” so to speak. The feeling is the fruit. 26 years…and a bear—I’m not feeling that.