...I guess you cuddle up to whiskey at night.
My dad and I had dinner together tonight. He's the only member of my family that doesn't hate me or simply wish to maim me. Maybe, at the cusp of 75, and after having suffered a stroke, he knows how important family is. Or maybe he remembers that it was me who came down to that homeless shelter to check on him. I don't know. Who cares? He's all I have in this city in the way of blood family, so I'll take it.
We've agreed, or, rather, I've told him, that I don't want to talk about 'the case' with him. I just want to know that my dad wants to see me because he wants to see ME, not the easiest source of information about the case. Even without the case, we have plenty to talk about.
My dad may be slowing down with age, but he's still pretty sharp. He forgets things sometimes but if you ask him about Israel and Lebanon, he'll tell you that Israel's cleaning house and more power to 'em.
Tonight we were talking about my family, but not about the case. We were talking about why my sister is the way she is, and what would solve the problem. Of course, nothing would. But I think we're the only people that we have available to vent to who've been there and know what we're talking about.
Every time we've ever talked about my sister and us growing up and what went wrong, my dad always says the same thing, "I should've been there. Maybe if I'd have been there, things would have been different." When I'm feeling charitable and circumspect, I tell him he did the best he could with what he had at the time. It's true, but I don't know that I've accepted it. Tonight, I could say it without accepting it. Maybe my dad's shoulders aren't sagging just because he's lost muscle tone. Maybe they're sagging and he's stooping under the weight of a million regrets. I'm thankful that today, my anger over my life doesn't have me enslaved. I'm glad that I can be in a moment and feel sympathy for someone in pain rather than live in the past.
I made mistakes while parenting my niece, plenty of them. I made mistakes just living my life and my regrets are sometimes so heavy, I can hardly stand up straight. Or maybe that's my back lol...but I sure do have a lot more energy for life on those days when I'm not drowning in my past.
I think that, when you experience loving a child, whether your own or someone else's, as a parent loves their child, that love is felt so deeply that the regrets you feel about not having done your best weigh more than any other kind of regret. It's just my opinion, my experience. The biggest regrets in my life are things that I didn't do right by my niece.
I asked my dad if there was one thing in his whole life that he could change, what would it be? And he said, "I'd have my dad not die." My dad's father died when he was very young. I'm not sure what age he was. His answer struck me so much that I didn't bother saying what it was that I would change. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in what happened when I was growing up, I forget that, at the least, I had two parents whom I knew loved me. I had one thing I could count on...having two parents. What did my mom sacrifice in order to give us that?
I'm thankful that, today, I can see my dad as a human being with feelings. I'm glad I'm not going to waste all the time that's left in his life reviling him over stuff that just can't be changed. I used to do that...go over to my parents' house and lambast my mom and especially my dad for stuff. Not past stuff...whatever they were doing in that moment.
One holiday night, Mr. Nasty and I were going over to my parents' and I could tell he was doing a slow burn. He didn't want to be there. If you'd met my family, you'd understand. But I didn't understand. I wanted so badly for him to accept my family and enjoy them with me. I finally got out of him why he didn't want to go.
There were several simple reasons...it was late, he was tired...but the other reason was something that hit me in the face like a bucket of cold water. "You go into your father's house and yell at him for drinking, for smoking, for whatever. You disrespect him." I wasn't ready to hear this at the time. He saw my dad as more human than I did. He was right. I think I started turning a corner that night. His reaction to my behavior showed me just how ugly it was. It took me a long time and some Program to start to just accept my dad. But I'm getting it.
I'm just grateful that I'm starting to get it in time to enjoy having a father among the living.
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