It is a difficult thing to explain in detail what went wrong without making anyone, including myself, look bad. Still, no one can be satisfied with the short version of the story. And the ones who haven’t kept up with my blog inevitably ask, “How is your dad?” It’s painful to have to answer these questions, so in an attempt to spare myself some of the humiliation of constantly having to explain, I will share what happened as honestly as I can.

A few months ago, Cameron confronted my dad with his discomfort about the physical affection between me and my dad. He doesn’t like another man’s hands on his wife. My dad felt he had been accused of virtual incest (incest but without the sex), so understandably he felt insulted, disrespected and indignant. You have to admit, they both had a point.

Cameron will not apologize for his feelings, nor do I expect him to. He feels how he feels. But for my sake he agrees to treat my dad politely. That’s all I ask. 

My dad, on the other hand, refused to associate with Cameron from that point on. (It is also the point at which my dad’s blog ends.) This put me in the uncomfortable position that everytime I went to see my dad I had to come back home and do damage control over the hurt it caused Cameron that I would cultivate a relationship with someone who wants nothing to do with him.

I was beginning to have far too many conversations with myself in the mirror that began with, “Look, DAD-” So I decided to give him an ultimatum: have a family dinner with me and Cameron, or else you won’t be seeing me anymore.It went about as well as any ultimatum ever does: badly. 

First Dad countered with an offer for the three of us to do extensive group counseling with my therapist. We tried it once. In my opinion, it did more harm than good. I refused to do it again, as much for my dad’s sake as for Cameron’s.

I emphasized that I do not expect the two of them to be friends, only to be respectful to one another. I repeated my request to my dad: be present at a family dinner.

“No,” he responded. “I am holding Cameron accountable.”

“I am asking you to forgive him.” 

“NO.”

“I hope you change your mind.”

“I hope you change yours.” Click.

And that was it. I attempted to explain my position again in an email and received the reply, “You seem comfortable with your decision. I wish you well!”

Just like that my father exited my life just as dramatically and unexpectedly as he had entered.  And now I face the challenge of continuing on as if nothing ever happened.

Many kind people have tried to assure me, “This isn’t the end.” Trust me, no one wants to believe that more than I do. But I’m not so sure. Wishful thinking will not make it so.

However, as a tiny comfort and proof that this was not just a bittersweet dream, I still have the music. We had begun writing an album to be finished by the end of our first year, and there are certainly enough leftover emotions for me to finish it myself. Whether I can find the motivation to do so is still up in the air.

Unfinished music. Sigh. That’s the story of my life.

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