Why I need to buy The Little Mermaid

I remember the first time I saw it. I was 10 and my real dad took me to the theater. My parents were divorced and he was on one of his (then) very rare clean and sober sprees. I remember the day so vividly because when King Triton gives his daughter legs so she can live happily ever after with her Twue Wuv, you can see how much he loves her. And how much the love is reciprocated. I remember this because my dad leaned over to me and said “Someday I hope that I can be that for you,” or something to that effect. It broke my heart. I loved my dad. I (even at the tender age of 10) understood that he was sick, and I wanted nothing more than for this little statement to be true. I wanted him to get better and I wanted to have the kind of dad that all my other friends had.

I wanted to be Ariel. In fact, every time I went swimming, my friends and I would always play Little Mermaid. And since I had the longest hair (and almost red), I was her. I would jump as high as I could, flinging my hair back out of my face, just like Ariel does when she becomes human for the first time. And for those short hours I was her. I even sang “Part of Your World” in my 5th grade talent show. (If I can find a picture when I get home, I’ll post it, because it is hilarious!)

The years went on and The Little Mermaid came out on video. I watched it until I wore my first copy of the VHS tape out. One day my friends decided they all wanted to watch LM. I was terrified. Because every other time that I’d watched it, I had been alone. Allowed to sob uncontrollably as the words my dad had spoken to me echoed in my head. Reminding me that I hadn’t heard from him for the past month (again). Wondering if he was in jail, in rehab, or worse. ”I want to be that for you.” I tried to hold it all in. By then, my mom had met my step dad and were engaged. I shouldn’t have wanted something from someone that wasn’t in a position to give it to me. My friends all knew what was going on, but they saw me as happy with the new situation. And I was. I still am. I love Glamorous Dad. He is a great man. But every little girl needs her daddy. So, as hard as I tried not to, the sobs escaped. And I was teased mercilessly. Because no one ever knew why I was really crying. Why the Happily Ever After killed me each and every time I watched it.

I’ve never told anyone why until right now. And my dad has been sober for almost 10 years. We have a strange relationship to say the least. There is kind of an unspoken “I’m sorry,” from him and “It’s OK from me.” Because it was a sickness, and he’s tried to do what he can since then.

Sometimes it makes me sad that my kids don’t know my dad. Because now he is a fabulous man. And I know it’s got to kill him that he doesn’t know his own grandkids. But they are not old enough to understand the ramifications of it all, and I’m not ready to put my kids in that predicament. Because they know GD and he is their Pa-pa. Someday I’ll be able to explain it all to them. And someday maybe we’ll be able to go visit my dad and I’ll be able to introduce him for what he truly is.

But until that day, I’ll just let it be. Instead, I’ll make a special trip to semi-civilization to pick up the collector’s edition of The Little Mermaid. Because you never know when you’re going to need another copy.