When I was growing up, my Dad and I had a close relationship. He was willing to give me the time and attention that I, like all kids, was craving.

He’d take me for walks, for ice cream, to the local zoo, the beach, on picnics and to New York City where he was born and raised. Laughing and singing together became regular events. A self-educated man, we would later talk about politics, baseball, business and entertainment.

So when Dad threatened to ”disown me”, it was hard to understand. He was the parent I could rely on!

This conflicting message contributed to my codependency. My need to stay in Dad’s good graces made it impossible for me to see any problems in the relationship, let alone confront them. Therefore, I would fight anything that threatened to shake that fragile cart.

If my grandmother or aunts would criticize Dad, the hair would stand up on my arms and my look could kill. I must say my mom understood this – “You can’t say anything about her father!”, she would often quip.

The first time I remember Dad threatening to disown me – I was thirteen years old. At the Archbishop Sheen Center, an inner city boys and girls club in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I met the counselor, Enrique. He was sweet and suave. Innocently, I made the mistake of going home and drooling all over my pasta while telling my parents about him. The name flagged an interest. When I said he was Puerto Rican, that was it. “Do you want to have 10 kids in a cold water flat? Well, do you? If you ever bring home a Puerto Rican, I’ll disown you!” As a naïve teen, I didn’t understand all the ramifications of that, but I knew it wasn’t good. I said nothing more, of course.

When I married John, an Italian-American like ourselves, Dad still didn’t approve. “It would have been so easy for you to marry a doctor or lawyer!”

When I had my own family, I was still trying to please Dad. Yet the disownment happened. He didn’t say it in words, but suddenly he didn’t have time for us. After a couple of months, I finally got the courage to ask why. After some imploring, he told me, but what he accused me of was entirely untrue. Not only was it untrue, but I had never even thought of such a thing and told him so. It was no use, though, because when I defended myself, Dad just got angrier and called me a liar. To say the least, it was heartbreaking; I never cried so hard in all my life.

Dad changed his phone number and made it private. Years went by. I sent him Christmas cards, birthday cards and Father’s Day cards year and year. No response. I wrote on the cards any new addresses and phone numbers we had and encouraged him to contact me for any reason. No response. Did I knock on his door? No, for all those years, the fear of further rejection kept me from actually coming face to face with him until…

I knew Dad was getting up in years and I felt in my heart: I have to see my Dad at least one more time. I felt it was God telling me to do so. “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, be at peace with everyone.” Romans 12:18 NIV

By this time, I had done some intensive work on my relationship issues through Christian counseling, and personal and group studies concerning adult children of divorce and codependency. I was trained as a support group facilitator at my church and led several groups on overcoming codependency.

Through a family member, I learned that Dad hung out a local coffee shop. There he would buy his New York Daily News and peruse it cover to cover. I decided that would be the perfect place to “run into” him. After a couple of tries, I finally caught him coming down the aisle, looking thin as always, a little less hair on top, but hardly a wrinkle on his face. I didn’t want him to run the other way, so I said, “Hi Phil.” He was always one to talk to the ladies so he smiled and said hello. Did he mind if I walked with him? Sure, he said. He sat down at a cafe table. He motioned for me to sit down.

He asked, “What’s your name?” I said, “Donna.” He remarked, “I once had a daughter named Donna.” “Dad, it’s me.” I’m not sure if he really didn’t recognize me or he was playing games, as he was known to do.

Once we caught up on some general family news, he said, “We had a fight, didn’t we?” I said, “Well, sort of.” “What was it about?”, he asked. I said I really didn’t want to talk about that. But he wouldn’t let it go. He kept asking, no, what was it about? Tell me. I looked around to ensure privacy, bent down and whispered in his ear, “You accused me of something I didn’t do.” His whole countenance changed and he looked at me with that familiar disdain and sneered, “You’re a liar, like your mother!”

All my training and experience kicked in at that moment. That was verbal abuse. And considering the difficulty I had with my mother, he knew that would really hurt. I couldn’t believe it! After all these years, he hadn’t changed. If he didn’t like something you said, you were out! I knew what I had to do.

I stood up, took his hand, looked him right in the eyes and said, “Dad, it’s been great seeing you again. I love you and I’ve missed you. And I hope to see you again sometime.”

 Then I turned around and walked away. I had to. I didn’t go there to be abused. I went there as a daughter hoping her father would be willing to reboot the relationship. It didn’t happen. I don’t think he remembered why he “disowned” me but when I gave him some responsibility in it, he lashed out.

As I walked away, I shifted my eyes and saw the absolute shock on his face. I had always let him have the last word, but this time I decided the meeting was over.

“A hot-tempered person starts fights; a cool-tempered person stops them.” Proverbs 15:18 NLT

About 2 weeks later, I received a scathing letter from him criticizing me and my husband. That’s how he made sure he had the last word. That’s okay, my purpose was not to have the last word. My purpose was to follow the Holy Spirit’s leading in seeing my Dad again.

“Instead, we will speak the truth in love, growing in every way more and more like Christ, who is the head of the body, the church.” Ephesians 4:15 NLT

I pray you never have to make as difficult a decision about someone you hold dear, but no one deserves to be abused. Sometimes it’s best to walk away, no matter how badly you want to be loved by them.