He was never there

If I ever write anything about my biological father I feel the need to write "father". I don't want to use his first name in writing since our last name is so unusual, but I really can't see him as my real dad. It feels so wrong to call him that. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, at the time when I still cared, I used to hate him. Hate has nothing to do with me denying him as my father. I don't hate him anymore, I feel nothing about him. I haven't seen him in almost 14 years. Hate is a feeling and feelings disappear after some time, or a long time in this case, but it still disappeared.

I think my mom and "father" separated when I was just one year old(young). When I was little He used to come by and see me and my sister twice every year - around my sisters birthday and around Christmas. I don't remember my 1-5th birthday, but I was a smart kid and I must have known that he didn't even care enough to see his youngest daughter at her birthday and for a 4-5year old that must have been hurtful. I get sad thinking about that small girl who went through this thing, not really feeling that it was actually me. My mother did however see how sad I was and gave him an ultimatum to come to my birthday too or not come at all. And a couple of days after my 6th birthday he actually showed up and that part I can remember. I was really happy.

Why I can't call him father is because he was never there. He came around three times every year until the year I turned 13. The last time I saw him was right after Christmas that year. Lets just say some things happened and me and my sister decided, without any adults opinions that we never wanted to see him again.
You can't expect to be a dad just because you get someone pregnant, it takes more than that. If he would have been a better person and we would have spent more time with him I would have felt differently, I assume.
But he is who he is and I'm glad we only saw him three times a year. I wish we hadn't seen him at all after the divorce.

My mother is a strong person and I wouldn't be who I am without her help. I'm not afraid to stand up for what I think is right and I always feel loved because she has always been there for anything and everything.