So it's been a while internet...
Whoever is out there reading this I'm not sure.
I have not written in a while because so much has gone on that is so
PERsonal.
Coming from a family where the joke at one point was "we are very private people"
sometimes it's hard to figure out what is O.K. to share.
But looking in the rear view mirror,
as one of my loved ones said
gives you clarity,
focus,
appreciation,
and great motivation to move forward and be present and joyful.
Today is August Tenth.
My Father's birthday.
Where to begin when I think of my Father.
Unfortunately the first thing that comes to mind is the day he died.
I was with my sister, sharing with her my special rib recipe, we were going to a beach b-b-q the next day.
The phone rang she started talking , left to a private place, and came back to me, handed the phone over with a shocked look on her face and then I got the news...
I don't remember exactly what my Mom said but it was something along the lines of "your father passed away"
that was it
in such a Boston, kind of tragic way.
So why on My Father's Birthday, do I go back to this memory?
because one of my first thoughts was
I hope he saw the video,
I hope he got the VCR fixed.
For his birthday present we made him a video, showing him everything I wanted him to be proud of,
Mostly me and what I was as a woman
yet also gifts that he gave me,
an appreciation of the natural world, nature , gardening, the ocean
and at the same time, things I was lacking...
outward unconditional, crazy over the top love
Jake saying I love you Papa
even though he didn't quite know who he was
Julia trying to show her Papa her best gymnastic moves
even though she didn't quite know who he was
but she knew it was important to me
jake knew it was important to me
So when I look back at that now
I can clearly see that was me,
in Jake
and Julia
saying
Papa look at me!!
Do you love me?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
August tenth- for Papa and Me
Posted by Growing Up the Second Time at 2:10 AM
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6 comments:
I remember you calling me very upset and telling me to call Mom. I knew before I called her what she was going to say somehow. Because of the energy you had when you called me. Even then it was a shock, a moment in my life that rearranged my whole universe in a second. I was in a parking garage to meet a friend for dinner. I went and told him what had happened he tried his best to console me. When I went back to get my car it had rolled down the parking structure pathway, I had forgotten the parking break in the moment that changed everything. I wrote a good-bye letter to dad. I remember sitting in his office in their house in Florida and the power went out for a second and I thought to myself is he trying to contact me. A wild thought I guess. I liked sitting in his office it had the energy of him. The stuff on the wall, the stuff on the desk. He had touched all these things; he had been in this room. This room was his place. In the end I never felt like I was good enough for him. Because I didn’t do sports, or the military or succeed in college or get married. What a path my life has been. A month before he died he walked me to the car as him and mom were leaving for their Christmas visit and had tears in his eyes. I was taken back by his display of emotion. He wasn’t the type to say I love you or it’s going to be ok or I believe in you. I always had to guess what his thoughts were and mood was so that I could be the chameleon I had to be to survive. He looked me in the eyes that day and said" I am so proud of you” It healed much and validated the work I had done to get clean and sober and to try to carve out a life in California without a college education and all my issues. What echoed that day he died and echoes even now in this moment is the idea of what could have been? Can't say what should have been. I know I cleaned up my part in my relationship with him thru the 12 steps. I guess that comment that day was his simple way to try to give me something I always lacked from him...acceptance. I remember trying to be there for Mom and how she was still playing "An Officers Wife". I remember the mass and the song "On eagles wings” I still think of that day anytime that song comes alive in a moment in my life. I also remember the problem I had being the Altar boy for his service. Years ago sitting in a pew at St. Catherine’s a priest talked about the sins of being gay and my god died that day in those words. The words that said I wasn’t loved by God. The spiritual hole that created haunted me for years. So on the day of his funeral mass I was asked by Mom to be the Altar boy. I couldn’t tell her why it fucked me up inside so I just did it. So much of the events of that time seemed to be robotic to me. I was in my body but could really feel what was happening. I remember the day he exited this world. The horse drawn carriage. Mom on my arm since I was the man of the family now. The crackle of the leaves as we passed the neat rows of tombstones making our way to his exit door. As I walked mom to this moment that I knew was going to be such a pivot point in her life, out of the corner of my eye I saw the names of the spouses on the back of the tombstones and knew that I would return to this place when it was time for her to join him. Wasn’t sure how to act on this day. Should I be sobbing like they do in the movies, should I be the colonel’s son, should I be the man of the family, could I be a shoulder for mom to cry on? I didn’t know the answer as we made our way to the exit door. When we turned the corner and the grave sight came into focus I was amazed at all the bells and whistles there. The firing squad, the band, the officers. More people with bells and whistles I thought than actually were there that knew him. That know about his life, that knew about his pain.
As the gunshots echoed and the band played on and the trumpeter began taps, I wondered if mom would sob or yell or say “no this isn’t happening”. She sat there quite controlled an "Officers Wife” indeed to the very end. There was the drama over the rosaries and also I remember how nice the Chaplin was. I thought to myself what a job to have. To stand at the exit door of peoples lives and talk to the ones at the door that cant go to the other side yet and have to make it ok or make sense of it or make it seem like it made sense. I don’t know how anyone would know how to do this. But he did. I remember when the band left and the firing squad left and the bugle player left and I was sitting there next to Mom on the fake grass carpet in the plastic chairs. I remember touching dads box, touching dads door and wishing him peace. Soon the master of the exit door ceremonies gave us direction to exit stage left. The military play was over. As we walked away I wonder if they would push dad thru the exit door that day. Would they put what was left of him in the dirt to be a part of that place, to be a part of the green grass...So we walked to the car and left dad there, with the many that had come before him and the many that would come after him. I was proud of him that day. The way he had been proud of me the day he walked me to the car and with tears in his eyes told me that he was proud of me. He had lived a life that ended with bells and whistles. With drums and guns, horses and carriages and a final song of taps. As we got closer to the car I heard the guns firing for someone else’s exit and thought what a repetion was going on in this place of people letting go or not as their loved ones got pushed thru the exit door. So many exit doors in this place and yet so much that would never make it thru these doors for the people involved. What could I leave at this place I thought as we drove away and left dad there. I really liked the ceremony that day, what a display of tradition and respect to him. In the Japanese’s religion Marianne Williamson says that they believe that birth is actually the hardest moment because the soul must begin its journey thru all its lessons and the many years that it will take to learn them. For them death is a celebration because the soul has made it back to the other side, it has accomplished what he had come to the earth classroom for and has graduated. I know dad was a great provider. That although he didn’t show his emotions often he felt deeply. I have been told in my adult life that I needed to re-parent myself. That his voice of critism was still playing like a loop tape in my mind. For me I’m on that journey now today. Doing things I like. Going where the love is and most importantly living my life for me, not for what others think I need to be. Happy Birthday Dad! I know you would be proud of me for how I made it thru the battles of my life, the colonels son wanted to surrender this year and go thru the exit door. But he won that battle and types these words into this computer screen telling the story of his life that helps him live on today, right here, right now on this computer screen you are here dad…Thank You for my imperfect life and my newfound willingness to be in it. And what it has taught me is to help others who find themselves in a similar place so that all my suffering and struggles will have immense value as I convert them into care and compassion for others. Silver into gold, pain into happiness. I need to be a place for love to move out and thru and into others lives. Like a speaker in a stereo system I need to never resist what wants to move out thru me. The circle of life is always in motion. I’m glad I can chose to be one of the wheels that keeps it moving in the right direction.
Thanks for sharing. It is inspiring
I had never cried much the past 49 years, but now I cry just about every day! This made me cry. I think the death of someone close to you takes you on a very long journey. It changes forever who you are, and who you will become...
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