The bane of our existence.

I spoke with a young woman today who had an interesting, though not terribly uncommon tale to tell.

She is 26 years old.  Her parents divorced when she was six.  Her mother received primary custody of her.  Her mother's favorite sport around the house was to bash dad: what a scum he was, what a deadbeat he was, what a horrible human being he was.  To say that dad had no value in mom's house would grossly overstate the situation.  You get the picture.

One day, it sounded like about seven years after the divorce, out of desperate need to retain some  boy's attention, this young woman accused her father of a heinous act.  Her accusation was private, to the departing beau.  He, then, told his parents who told the young woman's mom who called the police.

Months later, tens of thousands of dollars on defense counsel later, district attorney investigations and polygraphs later, the charges were dismissed. 

According to the police, the young woman made it up.  And why not?  It's not as if dad had value, anyway. This once little girl had learned that lesson well.

Though exonerated, the father langished.  He let his business go.  It was heading in the ditch anyway since it was a rather public operation and the public wanted nothing to do with him in light of the once pending accusations.  He fell into despair and depression.  He lost his house, his cars.  He nearly lost his mind.

He saw nothing of his daughter.

Years passed.  He worked at recovering.  He started a new business, flegling at first, but used it as his vehicle to re-engage with his life.  He threw himself into the business and it prospered.  Still he remained haunted by the absence of his child who had turned his world upside down.

Years passed and the young woman grew.  She graduated from high school.  She left her mother's home.  She attended and graduated college.  She got her first real job.  She  moved into her first real apartment.  She bought her own car.  She even became invested in her spirituality on her own terms.

And, as the years passed, as her spirituality deepened, she began to mature.  As she moved farther from her mother's world, she began to construct her own.

And she eventually came to realize just how she had wronged a man she once lovingly called Daddy.

So, after a painful series of starts and stops, she called him.

He took her call.

They met.  They cried.

Now, not terribly long after their grand reunion, they dine about once a week.  Usually Daddy buys.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Oh, the things we do to each other in families.