S4, Ep: 01: Fatherless (Part 1)

In a time when we often hear about fatherless sons, Mandi kicks off season 4 with a vulnerable look at what it's like being a fatherless daughter. 

Find Me Online:

• Website
• Facebook
• Instagram

Transcript

Mandi: Mandi Frantz here welcoming you to my podcast - Find Your Beautiful: Life Through the Eyes of a Christian Disabled Woman.  

[Upbeat Background Music]

Mandi: As I started thinking about the fact that this is my fourth season of this podcast, I asked myself why? I'll be honest, I don't have a ton of listeners yet. I have some loyal fans that I appreciate dearly, but my purpose was never fame. I don't really make money doing this either and as I'm writing this episode, it's already after Midnight and I'm exhausted.

Why then? Why do I continue these episodes? The truth is that I feel led by God to share my story. Maybe it's for that one person who needs to hear it. Maybe it's for the listener who never lets me know they listen. In the end, maybe it's just for me, a kind of journaling. Whatever the reason, I believe my experiences need to be shared to help empower and educate anyone willing to lend an ear. 

It is for these reasons that I'm sharing today's episode. This is another one of those personally tough ones. It's one of those vulnerable ones that I'm doing scared because I pray that it will bless someone in some way. 

Today I'm sharing part 1 of my "Fatherless" story.    

    

[Mandi voices Ad (ads change and will vary)]

[Doorbell Sound Effect]

Mandi: I grew up hearing about fatherless sons; how men weren't learning how to be men because they didn't have their fathers. I remember watching daytime talk shows and hearing young men confront their "deadbeat dads."  At the time, I remember being grateful that I was a girl and had 3 sisters. As a home full of strong, independent, fierce Latina women, we didn't need a man, right?

Then why did memories of my father always sting? It always caused this pain in my heart that I desperately tried to push away.  To be honest, I don't have many memories of my father. The ones I do have are all kind of a blur and I always fear that maybe I fabricated some. I remember when I was really young I used to go on weekend visits. Well, sometimes. I remember sharing a bunk bed with my stepsister. And I have a distinct memory of sitting at a small table in the bedroom with my father and stepsister playing a board game. My little half-brother came running in and messed up the game. And for some reason, I remember my father promising to buy me a new gameboy when mine broke, one of the promises he never kept. 

Then there are a lot of feelings with some memories. For example, I remember having my bags packed, coat on, and waiting at the door for him to pick me up. I remember him not showing up. And while I only remember one real instance of this experience, I also remember feeling like it had happened before and I told myself I wouldn't cry about it any more. I must've been about 6 or 7 years old when I lost all contact with my father. At the time, I didn't think much of it. I buried that hurt.

I had one connection to my father growing up. I bear her middle name. It was my paternal grandmother. She always made me feel special. Due to my time in the children's hospital when I was much younger, I didn't learn Spanish until I was older. I wish I had because my loving grandma didn't speak much English. We had a hard time communicating with words, but love transcends speech. She always used to bring me animal crackers and give me a dollar. It was the cool box then, the one that had the little circus depiction in the rectangular shaped box. I remember when I got a bit older, she started to give me $2 when she would visit. She used to tell me my father loved me. It didn't matter whether I believed it or not because her love filled a void. I hope she knows how much her visits meant.   

As I got older, and I guess as she got older, her visits became less frequent, until at some point they just kind of stopped. The summer that I was going to turn 14, I had the incredible opportunity to take part in a student exchange program. I was set to go to Ireland for 2 weeks. I remember thinking it was strange that my mom wanted me to visit my grandma. It had been a number of years since I had seen her, but I got dressed up and we drove to her apartment building. By this time I knew a good amount of Spanish, but that close connection wasn't really there any more. I remember feeling awkward and one of the first things she said to my mom was that before she got into the car, just looking through the window, she couldn't even tell I was disabled. I think she meant it as a compliment, but even now, that sticks with me in an unsettling way. 

I went on that amazing trip and when I got back, a year of tragedy struck. It was 2001 and I got back from Ireland 2 weeks before the Twin Towers were attacked by terrorists. A few weeks later, I visited my grandmother in the hospital because she had cancer and apparently wasn't doing well. I still think this might've been the reason for that sudden visit before my trip. I was supposed to see my father after 7 years of no contact that day in the hospital, but he never showed up. 6 months after 9/11, my grandma passed away and it hurt more than I expected. My mother took me to her wake and told me to be strong. As I promised my young self, I didn't shed a tear in front of anyone, not even my father who I saw for the first time after all that time. He cried and hugged me and made so many promises about how he would be in my life from that point forward. I wanted to believe him. I really did, but part of me knew better.

After receiving 3 child support checks with brief "I love you" letters, the messages stopped and I never heard from him again. I guess that's not completely true. I did see him on the news years later when I was 18 or 19 years old. There was a reservoir opening across the street from my college, which he happened to live very close to. He was walking along when the news crew stopped to interview him. A relative just happened to catch him on the local news which often replays stories throughout the day. I was able to see and record the replay on my DVR. In fact, my husband saw my father for the first time on that clip. 

I thought about that man on my prom night, on the day I graduated high school, when I got engaged, on my wedding day, and when both my sons were born. I'll admit, they weren't always, or usually, the most positive thoughts. I used to envision confronting him. Just showing up at his door one day and telling him that he missed out on an incredible person. On my insecure days, I'd think about asking him why. Why wasn't I enough to fight for? Why didn't he love me? What made his other children more valuable than me? When I'm really honest with myself, this fear of needing to prove myself, of needing to earn love has driven a lot of my success. I guess I can say thanks in part to him for that.

Many of these thoughts and feelings about him would just come sporadically. They were easy to ignore and never really impacted my daily groove. In 2019, something strange happened. Without going back again in time, just know that my stepsister found me on Facebook and we became "friends." We hardly spoke and still don't, but for some reason that Father's Day, a picture popped up on my feed of my father with his family and it stung. I mean, it actually made me cry. To this day I don't know why, but just seeing that hurt me and brought up all those buried feelings. I felt a mixture of hurt, anger, sadness, and confusion. In early 2020, I took my mom to dinner for her birthday and we somehow got on the subject of my father and I felt anger. I'll never forget telling her, "I want nothing to do with him."  That same week, another daughter of my father friend requested me on Facebook. It was strange and I considered declining the request, but God's voice told me to accept. She messaged me that my father was in the hospital after having surgery and wasn't doing well. Within 4 days of that message, and several conversations on Facebook, my father was dead and he took all my hopes of the kind of closure I wanted with him.  

    

[Bling]

Mandi: I know this episode is a little long, but I needed to take you on this journey with me. The story isn't over and I'll be sharing the rest, including what I wish I would've said, in a bonus episode at 5pm this Thursday. Subscribe to this podcast so you don't miss it.

And while I have you, go check out my Facebook page at MandiBox Beauty. Tune into my Fireside Chat to learn about some great things coming to MandiBox Beauty in just a few weeks.

If you find value in my podcast and story, please leave a review on my Facebook page or directly on my website at mandiboxbeauty.com. You can also connect with me on Instagram at MandiBox Beauty. 

[Mandi voiceover to 'Compton' music]: Tune in this Thursday, March 11th for a bonus episode to conclude this story! ‘Til next time Beauties.