I got the early morning call 7 years ago this weekend. Come. It was nearly time for my dad to exit the world that he had entered almost 66 years ago. I knew he was tired. His body had taken on the worst ravages of AIDS, entering his brain, of which there were no retrovirals for. I entered his room and looked with the grief and despair over my father. Once tall and solid in body and full of life, now wasted to a mere 100 lbs with his face wracked with pain. I gazed past his frail body and sensed the demons of his youth and adult life. Exactly who was my dad?
Now that I know the truth about my father and his life, I feel that I really had two dads. One wanted to bring a better life to his children, to love us and create more joy in our lives than he had ever experienced in his own childhood. Holidays and Family vacations were of the utmost priority to him because his had been so tragic.
The other dad could not find healing for the wounds he suffered at the hands of a raging alcoholic father and an absent mother, and so he sought out the affections of men. He spent long hours away on trips to the "hardware store" and "the office" and was often consumed with his clothes, hair and car more than the lives of his children. He found that he could not rid himself of either life. He coexisted between the two, unable to part from one life while still doing his best to fulfill the other. One life filled a void but was empty and destructive, and the other life offered him the love he deeply desired,the love of his family. He would take leave of his family during the normal days that we could have enjoyed him so much, yet he gave us memories at Christmas that I will always remember.
Through my eyes, he had the kind of humor that could make me cry from laughing so hard, but his anger filled me with fear. Ironically, his expressions of disappointment in me for never quite living up to his expectations brought me tears of deep grief and a sense of never measuring up.He was so darn protective and controlling of my world, he never liked a guy I dated until my future husband came home to meet him.( "Now THIS is a guy I could walk you down the aisle to...:) He loved his grandchildren with a love and pride that made my heart swell. As I look back, I feel so much grief for the sensitive young man who was forced to experience horrid physical and verbal abuse from his cruel and drunken father, as well as unspeakable acts done to him from others, but my anger from my loss and his choices sometimes gets in the way. In one way, he broke the curse of generational abuse that ran rampant through the men in his family. In another, he was unable to break the bonds of pain that brought him to his other life and ultimately his death and my mother's.
I find it hard to take the two lives of my father and create one man. For now, I will accept them both,with so many questions left unanswered. I will focus and remember the dad who fiercely protected and loved me. Throughout all of his teen years and beyond, he clung to Jesus and his faith,even if the religious judgement he sensed kept him from reaching out to someone. Our last conversations were of the deep unconditional love that his Heavenly Father had for him, forgiveness and healing. I will forever be grateful for those moments.
I will embrace the memories that brought me joy. I will remember how lies and secrets should never be. I will believe that I can continue to heal from my confusion and grief, and pray that my adult sons have learned lessons in life about pain,suffering,the truth and loving. My father is now truly one being in the heavenly realm and he is healed. Amen.
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