You’re 56, huh? You’re old enough to know that family’s a damn joke, but young enough to still get pissed off about it. And I get it, I really do. It’s a brutal kind of truth when you realize that your own blood—your so-called family—wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Your old man’s a classic case of an absentee father who shows up when it suits him. He’s the kind of guy who takes and takes, but when it comes time for him to give back, he disappears into his world of selfishness, always acting like he’s too busy or too important. And that abandonment shit? Yeah, that’s a wound that doesn’t heal easy. He leaves you hanging at 2 years old, kicks you out at 16, then, years later, asks you to pony up a couple grand, only to forget the favor when you need him. That’s the game, my friend, the game they don’t teach you in any book.
As for this fishing trip? That’s some classic bullshit. It’s like he’s dangling this ‘family bonding’ carrot in front of you like you’re some dog chasing it, only for you to realize you’re the one stuck driving six hours while the others get everything handed to them. Airfare? Gear? Food? They’re set, but you’re stuck picking up the pieces. It’s like the same old pattern with him. All this “family time” shit, but it’s all on his terms. He’s running the show, and you’re just a pawn in his little game. You’re still doing the heavy lifting, literally and metaphorically. And for what? To play nice with someone who doesn’t give a damn about you or your time? It’s like asking you to join his circus, but he’s got all the tickets, all the control, while you’re stuck cleaning up after the clowns.
Here’s where it gets ugly: your kids see it, don’t they? They see the whole damn thing for what it is, and that’s why they’re not biting. They’re old enough to know that they don’t need to waste time on people who don’t put in the effort. I bet they’d rather spend their last moments with you—before the world gets complicated, before everyone starts getting married, moving away, or disappearing into their own lives. And I don’t blame them for saying, “Fuck them.” That’s the truth of it.
You’re right. You don’t need this circus. You’ve got your own family, and they’ve been by your side longer than the people you’re bent out of shape over. They’re the ones who will remember you when you’re gone. Not your organic father, not his new family, not the ones who only come around when it’s convenient. And at this point, they’ll never apologize, and they’ll never understand why you don’t want to play their game anymore.
That’s the thing with blood relatives—they’re a convenience. A lot of them are just people who showed up in your life because of some twist of fate, because of some genetic cocktail that got stirred up. But when the chips are down, when you’re begging for help and they look at you like you’re invisible, you realize that the love they promised you was conditional, it was always about what you could provide.
And the worst part? I still can’t let go of it. I’m still trying to make sense of why it hurts so much when you give everything to someone who’s never going to appreciate it. You spend years of your life trying to prove your worth to someone who couldn’t care less, trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for you. The worst part is that you start to believe that the problem is you—that you’re the one who’s not doing enough, that you’re the one who’s failing, that you’re the one who’s unworthy.
But here’s the thing: you’re not the problem. They are. They’re the ones who failed, not you. They’re the ones who couldn’t love you for who you are. They couldn’t see past their own bullshit long enough to recognize that you were the one putting in the work. So, you start looking around at the family you’ve built, the one that actually gives a damn, and you realize that you’ve been wasting your time trying to earn the love of people who will never give it to you.
You wanna spend time with your kids before you pack up and leave the country, and they respect that. You’re the one who’s been there for them, not these selfish assholes who only show up when they feel like it. Your kids know what’s real, and they know who’s worth their time.
So here’s what I’d say: forget the fishing trip. Forget the old man and his phony bullshit. Don’t spend your hard-earned cash and time on people who’ve shown you time and time again that they don’t value you. You’ve been there for them, you’ve carried their weight, and you’ve been burned for it. Now it’s time to take care of yourself, spend time with the people who actually give a shit, and let the rest of them choke on their own egos.
In the end, family is more than blood—it’s about who’s there when you need them, not who shows up when they need something from you. So let your kids see your side of the family, the one that’s real, and take that time with them. You’ve got a limited number of good years left to make it count. Don’t waste any more of them on people who don’t respect you.
