My story is very similar to yours, except that my father never tried to see me. I was a “mamma’s girl” and I guess my mother won me in the divorce. My father saw my older sisters a few times, but then that petered out. From age 12 to age 33 or so, I saw my father twice–at his mother’s funeral and by accident at a grocery store. Both times we just talked briefly.
Then, when I was about 33, I ran into him on Christmas Eve–again at a grocery store. We talked for about 45 minutes, mostly about my sister, who was having some marital difficulties. At the end of our conversation, I said, “Do you want a hug?” It was impulsive on my part. We hugged and as I pulled away, he had tears in his eyes. I had only seen him cry once before, at his father’s funeral, which, as I found out years later, was the first time he had seen his son from his first marriage since the son was 2 or 3 years old. For the first time in my life, it occured to me that my father might care about me. Even more shocking was the thought that I might still care about him, this man who had hurt my mother and my family, this man who had left us. I ended up publishing online an essay on this encouter, which gives more background and can be found here.
When I got home, I said to my mom, “Guess who I saw?” She said without hesitation, “Your father.” I never have had much of a poker face.
Months later, I thought I would contact him. My sisters had sort of reestablished contact when they had children, so they had his address. My mother hated the idea, so I let it lay, and life went on.
A few months before my 35th birthday, I decided that my present for myself would be to contact my father. I wrote him a short note, just saying that I would like to see him or talk to him sometime. My sister called and said, “Dad just called asking for your phone number” and sure enough, he called me the next day. We chatted for an hour or so (I am sure much longer than his average phone call), mostly about his relatives, just catching up on the gossip. He called again a few weeks later, and we talked a bit about family history, including his version of the day I was born. We didn’t talk about the divorce, but that was ok. We made plans to see each other when I was due to visit TN in a few weeks.
We met at his hangout, the local Hardee’s, for breakfast. The employees clearly knew him, and they were expecting me. Various ones came by the table on the pretext of refilling our tea, but also to “meet Bryce’s little girl.” He told me he was giving my niece a car for her 16th birthday the following Wednesday, her birthday. I persuaded him to give it to her on Sunday, when I would be with her family for lunch so I could see her get her gift. He readily agreed.
On Sunday, I saw him tear up again. Later my sister told me that he confided it was one of the best days of his life, thanks to seeing his granddaughter so thrilled with his present and seeing me again.
He died on Wednesday–a massive heart attack.
At the funeral, his niece told me about the meeting my father and I had at the grocery store, with every detail in place. She said he had told her about it more than once and that she and others in the family all knew about my visit to TN and our meetings.
I can’t–no one can–know what decision you should make. I know I made the right decision for me. My father was a very flawed person, but I think we would have built a decent and rewarding relationship. I knew by the time I contacted him what I could–and more importantly, could not–expect of him. I would not trade anything for knowing that, despite it all, he loved me in his own way and as much as he could.
I hope if you do contact your father, that things turn out well for you. The only advice I feel I can give is to know that your father, like mine, has his faults. If you expect the relationship we all deserve with our parents, you will probably be disappointed. If you can be happy with what he can give you, maybe you won’t be, and maybe, just maybe, you will find out something as valuable as I did.