My dad passed away Jan 15 2006 and obviously, several anniversaries of his passing have come and gone. On one hand, he was a simple man who worked with his hands, keeping a very traditional family lifestyle, eschewing fame and future. On the other hand, he was not an angel as he was stubborn, opinionated and very much old fashioned in his ideas and thinking. In many respects, of all the kids, I am the one that resembles him the most in habit and spirit. I would guess, that at a certain level, he was no more than and no less as complicated as I find myself.
As his anniversary was approaching, I found myself thinking more and more of him. He passed away before my A and so, I was spared having to confess and explain my actions. I’m not sure if he would have understood the whole drama behind it. Dad has some simple ideas of how you dealt with issues like that. Don’t. Not as in "don’t deal with them" but rather, don’t get into the mess in the first place.
Today I’m finding myself crying over this. Crying because I never had the chance to talk to my dad about the struggle of a WS. Crying because I found myself in that position in the first place. Crying over the loss of my father period.
Today, I posted on a friends FB page telling them to take care of themselves as they struggle to take care of their mom who is hospitalized. I recalled replying to a post about the issue of whether a WS has the right to talk to their children about morals and ethics. Thinking of FOO issues. Thinking of death and thinking of my history. And as I grow older, I find that my thinking and emotions become entangled. Can't do one without the other.
It’s sad and depressing. How can someone so friken clever and smart be so friken stupid? Where was I standing when brains were handed out?
Today, as I picture my dad, envisioning the talk with him about the A, I can picture him standing there, slowly shaking his head in disbelief with this look on his face, incredulous that once more, his son was jut not getting it.
There are some days when I picture talking to my dad and he’s proud. Proud that I faced my demon and came out on the other side. Proud that even after faltering, I eventually did find my stride and got my shit together. That he would put his arms around me and say, lets go inside for lunch. You'll be okay son.
But today, that’s not the vision I’m having. Today, it’s the negative one. The one where he is disappointed and he can’t understand how I got into this mess. And today, I am also disappointed with myself and I also struggle with understanding. Sitting here with tears. Crap. Ah …. The consequences of our affairs run deep and the tentacles reach into every crack and crevice of our lives, affecting everything and everyone.
Ah ... I think I will go and make some brownies, have a coffee and figure out what’s for supper when LF comes home. Thanks for listening.
HUFI