Who We Are Is Who We Are, When The Act Of Love Can Get Us So Far

You know those commercials where people brag about the family members they found through  Ancestry.com? This one's related to a barber, that one's related to a civil war hero, another one is related to a woman who married three different men. No one ever turns up on those commercials boasting that they're related to like a serial killer or Hitler or anyone undesirable. Or at least no one goes all over the television to brag about it. And that's completely understandable, most of us have a branch (or eight) of our family tree that we'd rather not talk about. I'm estranged from an entire side of my family and have been since I was 17. We were all very tight and close those first 17 years but then some stuff went down and most of us hadn't seen each other until Gramp's funeral this year (which I opted not to go to because I still don't want to see any of them). I have an uncle who is also pretty much estranged from us, which is his decision really. And then there's that whole other branch of my family tree that comes from my father.
I've wondered on this blog before if it's better to know a parent that is unfit and bear the scars of it later on or if it's better to not know them at all and deal with the void that leaves. I have very few friends and family members who grew up in "traditional" households with the as-seen-on-tv happy family scenario. Some only had one parent because the other one chose to leave, some only had one parent because the other one passed away when they were young. Some had both parents but the situation was volatile and they witnessed and experienced things no kid should have to. Some started out with two parents, then had one, then had a revolving door of step-parents. Yet we all ended up finding each other. We all share voids from absent parents (for whatever reason), or scars, physical or mental or both, from the tumultuous upbringing our parents choosing to stay together for the kids had. Like it or not, those years affect us to this day and will continue to affect us for better or worse. We can get therapy, we can estrange ourselves from the people that hurt us or we can choose to remain in a situation where those people still hurt us, but no matter what we choose it will still play a role who we are. Because those years have made us who we are. Some of us hold out hope that our parents will open their eyes and realize how they have hurt us and apologize for everything and change their ways. Some of know the possibility of reconciliation or is always there, maybe even just a phone call or a Facebook message away, but others know it can never happen because that parent is dead and gone. But eventually we all make our choice about how to handle the things that happened to us in childhood.
I can front all I want about not knowing my father but a handful (maybe) of those closest to me know it does weigh on me occasionally, especially as I try to navigate my way through fatherhood. It's not a gigantic void in my life but it is a void made worse by the fact that there will never be any chance of a resolution. No reality television-esque reunion where he turns up crying and says he's been wanting to be a part of my life for the past 31 years but forces beyond his control prevented it from happening. No random phone call with some stranger on the other end of the line telling me he's my father and he wants to meet me. Hell, we already had that call when I was a kid and he did meet me and then he promptly made his exit. Guess I wasn't what he expected or worth getting to know or something. It was a form of rejection, and I remember my feelings being terribly hurt by it at the time (although I didn't tell anybody), but I did get over it. In the scheme of things, he was around for a blink and you miss it part of my life. He wasn't there for the first 7 years, he wasn't there for the next 21 and then he wasn't a part of this world in general after he passed. It shouldn't bother me so much that he came around for five minutes when I was a kid and then took off again. And the adult version of me knows that. But the kid in me is still bothered by it. And I hate that. Because it's not worth the time or the energy. It only crosses my mind occasionally and when it does, I write. A lot. But then I immediately go back and delete it and move on.
I think the one thing that does divide those of us who knew both parents and those of us who didn't is very simple. It's the little things. Knowing what traits and genetics you got from someone. Knowing the little quirks that they had and whether you have any of them in common. I think the void has as much to do with that as it does the rejection I felt as a kid. In a perfect world, your parents are the two people in life who will do anything for you and love you unconditionally and never reject you. In the modern world, that's not the case a lot of the time. People leave. They walk away and they don't look back and they don't care if they're turning their back on their own child. Or people are taken from us in a different way, not one of their own choosing. But either way, when that happens and you're young (or if you only "knew" them briefly as was the case for me) you miss out on so much. A friend of mine lost their father when they were young and I know how much it affected them, and still affects them. But that loss has made them who they are. And they have their siblings and their mother to tell them what they inherited and what their father was like. And I'm very happy they do because I know it provides at least a tiny bit of solace. But I'll never have any of that. It's been 24 years since that day our father took us out to eat and we sat in his car while he talked to mom. 24 years since she sat us down at a park and said, "Your father is a musician and you get your love of music from him and you have his hair and his skin tone". And to this day, that's all I know about him. I don't know any of his quirks, I don't know anything about the music he loved, or what motivated him to become a musician. And I never will. And sometimes that kills. But I hope that those without an absent, or completely absent, parent realize how lucky they are to know some of that stuff. Where they got certain traits, what they do just like one of their parents. Even if they don't like that they have it in common, they should still appreciate that they have the privilege of knowing. So I guess there really is no answer to my question of whether it's better to know a terrible parent or not know one at all because they chose to be absent. Well all lose something either way.