Been working on the Dad thing for a few days now. By that I mean trying to reconcile who he is with who I wanted him to be. This may get pretty tough at times and, if he happens to read it, he’ll more than likely get very upset and I’m truly sorry if that’s the case. I hope if he does read it, he understands what I’m trying to accomplish by doing this whole writing thing. I’m not real sure how to start this so I’ll just lay out some of the things about him that have always made me wonder.
The first, and I think most telling, thing about the man is the fact that I was married for more than 15 years. During those 15 years I spoke to my Father about once a week. I would constantly talk to him about my family, my wife and the three kids. I can’t tell you how shocked I’d be if, today or at anytime since I was first married, he could tell anyone the names of my now ex wife and kids. I don’t think it was anything malicious on his part. I just don’t think he considered it important. I honestly don’t believe that he, himself, thought there was anything wrong with it. A rather humorous side note to this is knowing that he could tell you the name of my dog without blinking an eye. Isn’t that weird?
When I was very young I lived in Trenton. Mom worked in downtown Detroit and Dad had his shop in Wyandotte. Dad’s friends at the time were, and I’m not exaggerating, all drug addicts. This was the mid to late 60’s and I think they were just called hippies but, in reality, they really were just druggies. I don’t have a problem with one having friends like this. Looking back I find it almost criminal that he would have these guys over the house on a regular basis. I can remember times when one of these friends would come by the house to take either one of us kids to Dr’s appointments when Dad and Mom were both working. They were as welcome in our home as any family member. I know Mom wasn’t real happy about it but, honestly, what could she do? She was far too busy trying to keep the power from being shut off on a regular basis.
I look back on those early years and realize that Dad never went to any school or sporting event that any of us kids were involved in. He always said that he had to work. Understanding what the business was that he had I know that he didn’t have to be there. I now realize, and I know this sounds harsh, that there was just nothing in it for him. See, when Dad would be at his shop, the people that hung around there were those that were far inferior, intellectually, to him. He literally was the “King of the Palace”. It was his world and everybody there understood that. When it came to us kids he had to work, emotionally, to be involved. It’s that single thing, working emotionally, that becomes the key to everything about the man. He either wouldn’t or, sadder still, couldn’t work that hard.
Whenever anything happened in any of our lives Dad would only be there until it became uncomfortable. Karen’s wedding, he had to leave in the middle of the ceremony. My Bar Mitzvah, he stayed until a special delivery was received from his boss that was a check for me. He was so proud to literally put a stop to all conversation in the room and have me open this gift. He left minutes after I opened it. When his Father died, he only came in for the funeral and left before the first night of Shiva was complete, the same for his Mother. His way of justifying things to himself was to throw money at it. He paid for a lot of the food and things so he felt his job was done. At his Mother’s Shiva, I had to drive him to the airport in a major storm so he could get out of the emotional predicament he found himself in. These stories aren’t being told to be mean, I’m really trying to understand the man and it’s starting to all make more sense now.
Dad’s sick now and none of us are really sure what exactly is wrong. He got mad at my brother for talking to a Dr. about his illness and he only gives us snippets. He told me that he was going to have an angioplasty and would need a month to recover. A friend of mine that’s a nurse is surprised by the recovery because it’s usually outpatient surgery. I think there’s more going on than he lets on but I don’t think he really understands it. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it so he just shuts it down when it’s being explained to him. Again, it just makes him use emotions and, I really hate saying this, but I’m not sure that he has them. I find it difficult to come to this conclusion but I’m so afraid he’s just empty inside from not using those emotions for almost his entire 78 years.
Dad’s facing the idea of his mortality and I know that’s not a comfortable thing for anyone. For him, well, I can’t imagine being in that room, late at night, all alone with the lights off. Those unused emotions, just bursting to get out, to help him get through this and he’s so unpracticed at it that he just plain doesn’t know how to use them. Granted, I am way more emotional than most but he’s so far on the other end of the scale it scares me to think of him in that position.
I know it may not seem to be the case but I do love him and when the day comes when he’s no longer with us I will miss him dearly. I’ll miss the conversations we’ve shared. He’s a really bright guy and we’ve had some great ones. I’m just so sorry that, well, see, that’s the problem. I’m not really sure what I’m sorry about.
1 comment:
Your Dad is detached, disconnected and messed up like all our parents. But we love them anyways, we don't always like what they say and do or don't do, but you never stop loving them. Were stuck with them. We can't change them, we can only change how we react to them. "Rabbi" told me that.
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