Sunday, June 16, 2013
Ode to a Dad
Something struck me on my walk tonight, inspiring me to sit underneath a lamppost across from an elementary school closed for the summer. this was amidst the sound of quietly chirping crickets and my own beating heart. I decided to reflect on my dad, which caused me to pause my walk, and make all other biomechanical processes slow for a moment to take it all in.
I realize I and others focus plenty on our painful journey through life with our painful parental woes. We suffer years through from our issues of abandonment and emotional abuse, or varying degrees of damage others of us have gone through. Everything we do operates from whatever premise our parents created for us; and how some of us pray that we didn't do something horrible to our own, as a result of what we had gone through.
Much less often do we focus on what our parents may have suffered through, what their folks brought to their table, or what generational woes affected the whole lot. When healing gets to the level of decades upon generations, we begin to see the web of creation and process we are all undergoing, and an even fuller picture of our healing.
I get that on an even larger level after today. For some reason the clouds parted, and a rather obnoxiously loud voice shouted, "forgive your father!" Now granted, this caught me a bit off guard, having already "healed" from my father's past actions, but made me realize why people continue to use their wounds as a badge of honor, protecting them from ever having to actually let these ideas go. And if the affected person gets into a broken relationship, those wounds and badges come shining through to stop that person from acting on their grief.
Well I have to admit that I am one such person in a relationship with someone who reminds me of my father in many ways. Is this one way I am healing my connection with my dad, by getting to know him through this man? Does this mean the relationship is doomed, or fortified for better, stronger times? These questions come and go as I wander almost aimlessly through my evening, thinking thoughts as random as "how will my soup taste?" (I made a soup with leftover, unused and on the edge veggies)...but I digress.
So here's the ode part: I met my dad on the verge of my anger and frustration because he was always working late. I wanted him to rock me to sleep every night. Then I wanted twinkles and bologna sandwiches from his lunch box. That was a special treat. When his schedule changed again, I missed him in a whole new way because he was tired from the change in schedule. Then when mom and dad were having problems, empty promises became the theme. At one point I thought dad was trying to get me a new mom. I loved him still through it all...but finally found out why I had been placed last, essentially.
It wasn't until later that I realized all my relationships were based around the image of this man. My dad having healing many parts of his existence, proved to me that a man could change.
I never knew much about grandpa. Just found out that he stopped going to school in 3rd grade to help his father work. Dad stopped in 8th grade. It's no surprise I became a teacher. Based on the counseling esthetic that both mom and dad have, I am also a health/fitness/wellness coach, and healer. Some things never change...
So now I know upon another layer unraveling, who I am and why I am, thanks to my father. As the story progresses, while it is still an unfolding story, I hope to know the whole of it, and have the courage to learn of it, before my father leaves this earth. Namaste.