Today would have been my father’s 85th birthday. He died nine years ago, his life cut short from cancer. First bladder cancer, then gastro-esophageal cancer. Cancer that was in part due to drinking, smoking and unhealthy eating. Nine years ago I held my father as he breathed his last breath. I stayed with him and my mother for nine months before that, traveling back and forth between their home and mine so I could care for them both and also show my daughter I still care for her and I am still here. She was a young woman then, twenty one years old and able to care for herself yet still needing her mother. Too often I went away, not realizing the holes I left behind.
Today, I remember my father, a most complicated man. I love him dearly and always will. He was a conundrum. Someone who valued intelligence yet was not educated. Someone who valued family yet watched his own family implode. Someone who valued honesty yet had a difficult time with sharing his truth.
He was a successful businessman however, even while on his deathbed he refused to acknowledge this. Every year he said “We are going to the moon”. Every year he tried to do more for himself, the business and his family. I believe he did. The business he created provided sustenance for so many. Maybe he didn’t make it to the moon but I do believe he landed among the stars. His business was a success for fifty years.
He did not see how important he truly was, to the business, his friends or his family. From the outside, one could think he was strong and self assured, after all, he was a successful businessman. The truth is, he was so insecure and there was a little boy inside of him needing to be hugged. He was a people pleaser, an over achiever and wanted everyone to be happy, often putting himself last. He loved to play, and sing and goof around. He even played at work.
For me, he caused countless smiles to come across my face. He knew me like no one else could. Only he knew how to get me to smile or motivate me to forgive some family member who wronged me. “Just let it go” was his go-to phrase. “Life is too short to hold grudges”. I hear these words in my head over and over. “Just make amends. Even if it isn’t your fault, just make amends.” When some family member or other would stop speaking to me he would call me and say “You be the bigger one, just apologize. It’s all for the greater good, the family.”
He was the patriarch after his father died. He cared for us all. That was a heavy burden. Having so many people want you and need you can feel overwhelming. He was there for everyone. Not always 100% willing but yes, he was there.
So many of my memories are of us laughing at midnight. Sitting with the BetaCam and him recording me or him. He had a fascination with Hollywood and actors. When I was a teenager he “interviewed me” as if I was a Hollywood actor dating Scott Baio. Looking back this “interview” was at midnight, and I am certain he had a few too many drinks. I always thought Daddy was funny. I didn’t understand “too many” then. Our time downstairs meant quiet time for Mommy.
Some of my favorite times were sitting in “the den”, my former bedroom, with my father watching NOVA or WWII movies. It was during these times my father felt smart. Not having an education often created feelings of inadequacy. But here, educating me in something he knew so well, he became my teacher and I his student. He took time to educate me about science and the Universe. We talked about The Big Bang and about Gd. His knowledge of WWII was vast. He loved that I wanted to sit with him on the couch and be educated by him. Like a sponge I sat there allowing him to share all of his knowledge and love of learning with me.
When I was very young, this den was my bedroom. There were different memories then. Then, he came to my room at night, clutching his chest asking me “will you come to my grave when I am dead and gone”. He would lay on my blue and white high pile carpet telling me he doesn’t think anyone will come. Always I lay beside him, soothing his sadness. At seven years old, I was unsure if he was sad or just joking. But I lay next to him, reassuring the sad part of him “of course Daddy. I will come to your grave.” I didn’t think one day would come. I thought this figure who was larger than life to me would live on and on forever.
My larger than life father was neither all good nor all bad. As I grew up I realized he was human and flawed. I realized he had demons of his own that he never dealt with. He drank to escape or numb. His personality style was co-dependent. When he became angry, he cleaned, EVERYTHING. Unfortunately some of his demons led to my own. Painting my father as perfect or all loving would do him and me an injustice.
I experienced a lot of trauma. I was abused by several people, emotionally, physically and sexually. My fathers inability to be honest and acknowledge my lived experience only deepened this pain and added to it. He could be dismissive, crude, hurtful and vulgar.. I don’t believe he set out with the intention to hurt me or anyone else. I do believe my father was a flawed and hurt man himself, unable to heal his own deep wounds.
Blaming someone else for the pain feels easier. But is it the right thing to do?
“ Blame keeps the sad game going.
It Keeps stealing all your wealth.
Giving it to an imbecile.
With no financial skills.
Dear one, wise up.”.
-Hafiz
I don’t want to be an imbecile, so I learned to not keep the blame game going.
The thought of death did not scare me. After having my father tell me so often he was going to die, I became accustomed to the thought of it. Then, I began to lose people I loved (great-grandma, grandpa, and great uncles and other greats). Death and I became companions. OCD became a learned behavior from my father. I kept everything in my room very orderly, knowing my room would never be touched when he became angry. Like OCD, he taught me people pleasing, too often at the expense of myself.
I grew up and the environment in the house was not suitable for me. There was pain and toxicity. I blamed my father for much of my pain. There are significant times I remember curled up in my bed crying, weeping like a baby, uncontrollably. His words and actions affected me in profound ways. Why is it we remember pain easier than loving moments? I know there were both. The pain has stood out for a long time.
Blaming someone meant I don’t have to accept responsibility for any of it. It was the easy way out. The truth is, nothing is ever one person's fault 100%. There are parts I don’t accept responsibility for, and then there are parts I recognize I could have handled much differently.
I am thankful to my father because he knew my situation and understood my need to go to prep school and eventually leave for boarding school. Because he was a business owner I was privileged enough to have this as an option. Public school was a challenge for me because of my epilepsy. Prep school did not have the same roadblocks for me. Boarding school was necessary because my home life became toxic. Boarding school for me is where I developed my sense of self. My values. And many of my friends. I grew up there.
I grew up again, watching my father die.
Then came the time when I sat in the den with him watching him fade away day after day and month after month. We sat together in this den watching NOVA and WWII movies just as when I was younger. We talked about God, the meaning of life and life after death. He asked me if I would visit his grave when he dies and I said “Daddy, you will live in my heart forever, you will never die to me.” Graves are markers for people to remember their ones. I do not need a marker to remember my father. I do not need to pay tribute to a grave.
Because of him, I am who I am today. I am neither all good nor all bad. I am simply a flawed human. Someone who makes mistakes and learns to take responsibility for them. I am no longer a people pleaser. I learned to care for myself. The parts of me I love are so often the parts you have given to me. I remain childlike, loving to play daily. I remain curious about the world around me, reading the news and inquiring with friends. I remain connected to all that is important in my life: Family, Friends, and Building a Life Worth Living. I learned to “Just let things go” because “Life is too short”. Daddy, I hear your words in my head. I thank you.
I value learning.
I received my BS in Social Work at the age of 51.
Unfortunately, my family has imploded.
I have faith new pieces will fit together one day.
I value honesty.
I am honest with myself and others. I share my past with others in hopes that others can learn, grow and thrive
I have a thirst for learning daily.
I still watch documentaries about WWII and anything about science. I am curious and inquisitive about the world around me. I never doubt the existence of Gd.
The man I blamed for so much, said the words I needed to hear before he died. “I’m so sorry I didn’t do something sooner. Can you forgive me?” I responded “Yes, Daddy. Let’s let it go. May you reach for the moon and stand on it! Wave to me from there one day.”
He closed his eyes and a lifetime of pain left when he did.
Happy 85th Birthday Daddy—You will always be in my heart.
Strength shines through in your words. And the wisdom of paradoxes and nuance. We humans are so complex. Even as a child it feels as though you knew about this. Beautiful post.
Beautifully crafted words to describe the realness of relationships.
The blame game was interesting and I automatically started to reevaluate in my mind if I do this..or where I might need to take a percentage myself.
We are lucky for boarding school my friend, very fortunate.