Dad.
Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of my father’s death.
I’ve been staring at that sentence for about five minutes. I am brimming with words and emotions about the sentence. And the man.
I want to write that he was a good man, but I’m not all that sure.
He tried. That’s probably a more accurate statement.
He tried to love my mother. He tried to support her but no amount of money, love, caring or kindness could fill the broken cauldron that substituted for her heart. Until she tossed him away, he tried to be her safe place in the storm.
Extremely shy, he tried to interact with his vocal, stubborn daughters. He tried to engage. He tried to share his interests in music, theater, ballet, and art. When the time came, he tried to interact with his daughter’s husbands.
He tried to give. He tried to be kind. He tried to love. But he had no idea what it meant to be giving, loving or simply kind.
But he tried.
He tried to break me - break me with his fists, his rules, his deadlines, and his cruel words. He tried to destroy my wild nature with recrimination. He tried to indue me with his terror of the world.
In the end, he relied on my indestructible wild nature to do what had to be done and send him on.
All these years later?
I still miss him.
If he was sitting here, he would say, “You seem weepy today.”
I would nod knowing that there was no way for him to understand how I felt or what it meant.
“It’s the way of things,” he’d continue trying to use logic to explain the emotional. “The old die so the young can live.”
I’d nod again. “But I miss you.”
“I know,” he’d say.
And we would sit in silence for a while.
Where ever you are today, if you have a moment, could you just sit for a moment in silence with me and my Dad? I’d appreciate it.
Filed under: Thoughts on being human....
I’m sitting… I’m weeping, but I’m sitting… and I’m thinking of you and your Dad…
And I’m sending you both my love…
Kevin - Thanks. It means a lot to me.
Our Dads all have feet of clay, but we love them and miss them anyway. I know exactly how you are feeling.
Nicely put. I am thinking of you & your dad.
I really just wanted to let you know that this had been read. H.
Josie - Yes, feet of clay, brains of mud, hearts of stone - yet immeasurably lovable. Thanks.
La Cubana Gringa - Thank you for your thoughts. He died because he hated and/or was afraid of doctors. Maybe if he knew you, he wouldn’t have had to die so young.
Heather - Thanks for reading and thinking.
I sat and spent time with you and your dad. I also said a prayer. It was a wonderful post. It is important that he tried. That showed that he loved.
Squirrelly - Thank you for your time and prayers. My father used to say that we all love in our own ways and that the trick is to understand how someone else loves. I’m certain he was talking about himself - as you so beautifully said.
Claudia - ditto what everyone else has already said. It never, ever gets easier and sometimes I am glad for that because that would mean that we are forgetting someone who was so very important to us.
Oh, Claudia, this is so beautiful.
I have come to believe over many years of consideration and much pain that our parents rarely love us according to our job description of how they should. But they usually do, in their own way.
The fact that your father actually told you that the trick was to understand how someone else loved means that he loved you more than he was able to express. (How could he not?) That WAS his way of saying “I love you and I am so very proud that you are my daughter.”
I am going to sit here with the two of you for awhile because there is nothing I would rather do than be in the presence of a father and daughter who love each other.
ADW - I think you’re right. There’s probably no way for it to be “easy” to lose someone you love, especially when that relationship is turbulent. Thank you.
Heart in SF - I appreciate your heartfelt words. It’s a funny thing. I don’t think that my father ever uttered those three small words to me. My oldest sister is crushed over it. I do think you are right, though. He loved me, and all of us, in the ways he knew how. Thank you for your kindness.
I am thinking of you and your dad…
And I think the two of you follow me around today…
You are in my heart…
Pendullum - Thank you for your thoughts and the space in your heart.
I didn’t comment when you first posted because I didn’t want to break the silence but I thought I should come back to say I was there.
Moobsy - Thanks for being here.