I was hoping my dad would visit this summer. He made this big deal that he would come here on the way to seeing Nel's family. While I was totally excited by the idea that he would travel to Dallas to see his grandkids and us, I was also expecting him to back out. True to form he will not be coming. I'm a little glad I didn't fully expect him to actually come here, but also bummed. I had just enough hope to be disappointed. I've lived in Dallas for eleven years this summer and he has come only one time: for my wedding. Since then it's always been some reason he can't. Money. Work. Taking care of his mother. It's typical that once again I feel let down by him. One would think that in nine years he could have found one weekend, one stretch of vacation time, one two-day time off that he could use for me. Intead I've spent my own time going to see him. I can't do that as easily with the kids anymore and regret that he won't be there as they grow up. I worry they won't know who he is and then he'll be gone.



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