Remembering My Father
“Oh it’s taking so long I could be wrong, I could be ready
Oh but if I take my heart’s advice I should assume it’s still unsteady
Oh I’m never really ready, I’m never really ready
I’m in repair, I’m not together but I’m getting there”
- “In Repair” by John Mayer
Today, November 3rd would have been his 72nd birthday. The 10 year anniversary of his death was last month. We received a piece of junk mail addressed to him today. He never lived here. We bought this house 2 years after he died.
Ten years. It seems like a lifetime ago.
I don’t believe one of the things I said in last year’s post. I know I believed it at the time.
“I forgave him and grieved for my lost childhood a long time ago.”
No. That’s simply not true. I have never grieved for him or my lost childhood. It’s too much. Whenever I come even close to wrapping my brain around any of the emotions that surface when thinking of him I have to back away. The many forms of abuse I endured when he was healthy are so complicated and so much a part of my identity that I have to deal with my recollections in small doses.
I’m not even sure how to go about grieving for him. It’s so surreal, losing a parent. The hospice nurses told me that it’s actually more difficult for children who lose parents with whom they had a less than loving relationship. They warned me that I may not grieve at all but that somewhere down the road, “maybe even 10 years from now”, it will hit me, and hit hard.
I moved out just as he was beginning to get really sick. After I moved out I mostly only saw him at the occasional obligatory holiday and the seemingly endless emergency hospital visits and eventually in the nursing home. My only memories of him as an adult revolved around pretending everything was normal and his illness. That’s it.
I think that’s why it’s been easier for me to reconcile my relationship with my mother. She’s still here (thank God…or whoever). I never got to know him as a healthy adult.
I wonder how different my life would be if he were still here and healthy. I wonder how he’d have treated my sons. I wonder how he’d have treated me. I’ll never know.
I have to deal with all these conflicting feelings at some point. It’s obvious that avoiding them has caused most of my problems, especially my weight and body image issues, my anxiety and my trust issues. It’s just so overwhelming that I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do it. I’m in repair. I hope wherever he is, he is too.
Thanks for stopping by!
Oh, Cyndi, I feel for you, honey. This is largely what my memoir deals with. Healing from childhood abuse, sexual and otherwise. And my relationship with my Dad was a huge part. I ended up his caretaker the last 3 years of his life. I was lucky–some genuine healing occurred as a result. But since your Dad has passed, you’ll have to find ways to resolve the issues without him. It is possible. I am here as living proof of that. Sending you loving thoughts,
Karen
Karen Walker´s last blog ..Choices
Thank you so much Karen.
i have said the same kinds of things about my dad and my childhood. if you would have asked me before i started therapy if i had forgiven my dad for everything i would have said yes. and i believed it too. i wasn’t just lying to make myself look better. then i started therapy….
i think forgiveness is a process. there is the initial decision to forgive which is huge and important then there is walking through the events, experiences and emotions of our lives and applying that forgiveness. that takes time. (and i would add some supernatural help). sometimes we can only look at small pieces at a time. that’s ok. the good thing is that you are still in the process. you haven’t given up. you haven’t closed down.
i know it sucks. i wish it could all just be over with one small declaration of forgiveness. hang in there friend. little by little…day by day…
consuella´s last blog ..hitting the wall
I think we all planned and fantasized about moving out and getting on with our lives, thinking THEN we could really start living that we failed to realize the damage that had been done and the baggage we were carrying around. It is definitely a slow process. Thank you!
Thank you for the post Cyndi. It ties into so many places in myself I visit, and have visited over the years. Reminds me of an incident that took place when I was five.
My brother, sister and I were in trouble. They were four and five years older than me, I was the youngest. The simplest things would send my dad into a rage. A card was missing from a full deck on this one occasion I am thinking of now. It could have been anything though because he saw life as a problem. He often lined us all up for a spanking with a belt. He was a giant in my eyes. The belt was two inches wide, he sometimes missed our rear ends and hit our legs because he was drunk. We showed up at school with these marks on our bodies. It took a long time to find an adult who would intervene. (l learned to listen to children because of this)
So this incident that comes to mind where I’m first in line for a spanking, I looked up at my dad and I asked him, “Why do you want to hurt me when I love you so much?” It didn’t make a difference in how this situation unfolded, he continued on with the spankings. But it did make a difference in me when I realized that he did not love, he didn’t know what he was doing. In a way, I was liberated from thinking I was bad. Or that I was not lovable. This little tiny memory reminds me of all of the things we can believe when others respond with hate, with anger, with ignorance.
It had nothing to do with me.
There are no short cuts to grief and healing deep wounds. The truth is the only real salve I have known. This, and dear friends like you who understand tears like these.
Dawn´s last blog ..Trees Talk to Me
Another heartwarming tale from the annals of abuse. If I’m not mistaken, my sister tried that same defense and was ignored. And our father wasn’t a drunk, just a narcissist. I have yet to be completely liberated from thinking I am bad or unlovable but I’m getting there….
Yep, tried it…….he finally stopped pounding my head on the head board and let go of my throat….but I don’t think it had anything to do with my begging or “love” and it certainly didn’t have anything to do with mom stopping him (she was just part of the audience). Then of course, he left to “cool off” or whatever only to return with confessions of his own issues for his 12 yr old daughter to absolve. Yuck!
The really strange thing is though, watching him so freaking sick and then he actually was helpless (not like what-a-dumb-ass-helpless, but truly helpless against diabetes). And then he was just like a totally different person…..kind of like how you deal with mom now.
Steph´s last blog ..Green Reading
I know, he really was pathetically helpless and sick at the end and I did feel bad for him. No one deserves all that he went through. I still felt ripped off and even while I felt bad for him I was also resentful that he was so sick and so I could never resolve anything with him. I know that’s totally fucked up. Hence…..therapy! It’s a process..
Isn’t it weird that I got mail addressed to him HERE on his birthday?!! And all last week I kept hitting my head….
Sending positive thoughts and prayers your way. Sorry for your loss.
JennyMac´s last blog ..Be my guest….
Thank you.
Wow, talk about parallel lives. It’s been only 3 years since my father died and I am still a bit numb to the whole thing. I still have his ashes in an urn and I have no idea what to do with them, I don’t want to keep them, but I’m not sure what to do with them??? My father had a terrible temper and I remember may times being yelled at and spanked, and he at times was very abusive to the check-out girl at the grocery store, waitresses etc… I remember being very embarrassed and wishing I could just disappear in those moments. But mostly my father was indifferent, never really gave his opinion, encouragement, advice…nothing, he would check out.
My mother on the other hand was overbearing and extremely critical, I grew up with polar opposites and found refuge nowhere. I have always struggled with feeling inferior to others, I was always very, very shy, a loner, could hardly stand to be in social situations, I would panic. When I got older I began to ask questions about there childhood, I found out my father was very unloved and mistreated by his father who was an extremely critical person. My father ended up marrying an extremely critical woman (no big surprise there). I came to realize that his lack of opinion was because he didn’t want to be critical of me (no opinion=no criticism). But it actually did the same if not more damage than if he would have just spoken up.
I remember the day I arrived at the hospital and the Dr was outside my father’s room and told me that there was nothing more they could do for him, he had a matter of hours. I went into his room, looked him in the eye and began to sing, IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL. I had to at that moment let go, not for him, for me. He made his choice to live that way, and his last words were, “What did I do with my life?”
I am not nothing because my parents treated me that way, I CHOOSE to believe and know who I am. God’s grace is amazing and has blessed me with an incredible husband who has had to deal with sooo much, and has taken this journey with me, and is the first person who has truly made me feel loved and valued. Thank you so much for your honesty, you are truly brave!
Brave…as are you. Wow, I can’t believe he asked “What did I do with my life?”. That would haunt me. Mine never said a word about the abuse, his life or about anything at all. In case you haven’t read this one about his death: http://somuchmorethanamom.com/2009/07/24/free-at-last-or-so-i-thought/
How is it possible that we have been in the same family (practically) for over 20 years and are just now finding out how similar we are. I guess the answer to that question is that we were both afraid to talk about these things, right? Thank you so much for your comment. It brought tears to my eyes.
Wow, how strange to get mail in his name on his bday at your house he never lived at?!
I think all you can do is accept the grief, which you’ve done, instead of denying it. Then at whatever point you can, you’ll deal w/ it. The healthiest thing you could do for yourself is to make sure you don’t repeat it and give your boys an awesome childhood, and I know you’re doing that!
Christina´s last blog ..Christiiiiina’s Baby Back Riiibs
I’m sorely overdue on my blog reading…damn life getting in the way again. I really must have a talk with it about that.
That being said: I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for your loss (and the feelings that it evokes in you)—I can fully understand grief being even more painful as time goes by. It’s odd how that works, isn’t it? I’m thinking of you. And of course, you know I love the quote. I think another jm quote would also be applicable here….”just keep me where the light is”.
Thanks Jess, and I’m pretty sure that JM lyrics can be applied to every situation in life.