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captainsblogMy father died 25 years ago today.
Why I am so painfully aware of that fact, when I have to rack my brain to remember even the exact months of the deaths of my mother, my in-laws and even my sister- all of whom were, and are, much closer to me? Not sure. It's not like I had a sudden rush of catharsis back then and headed south to dance on his grave or anything. I was a Good Son, helping to plan and attending the funeral and all that. About the best I can guess is that I had so little to remember him by in life, I'm more mindful of the things that changed, and didn't, after his death.
Dad was a difficult man. Even now, it's hard to express quite why that is. He did his best to avoid being any of the stereotypical things I could truly hate him for. Yes, he drank- but not to excess. Sure, he smoked- but so did my mother, and he quit cold-turkey when a late 1970s heart attack made him do so. No, he didn't cheat, and he didn't beat- but those virtues don't excuse his distance from us, always emotional and, increasingly, in distance and intentions.
For the last 20 years of his life, my father took his vacations alone. Colorado, Alaska, even England once. You could attribute it to my mother being a lousy traveler, but I think he was just so hell-bent on doing what HE wanted to, he didn't want to be bothered with, yaknow, having those pesky relatives around. He'd send postcards, and bring back little tsochkes, but these were things that were only shared in his way and on his terms.
It was like that when he was around, too. My father lived at the end of that supposedly Greatest Generation where the man of the family not only could, but was expected to, assert king-in-his-castle control all around him. Not only was he the only breadwinner, he was also the only licensed driver and, even after I got my own license, he left me off the insurance policy for the lone family car because, don't you know, insurance for teenaged boys is EXPENSIVE. So he kept control over what we did and where we went, and the only way we kids had to deal with it was to leave- my sister Donna lasting the longest, until just past 21, and I vaguely remember the shitfit my father threw over THAT rejection of his authority.
My mother even left, briefly, at one point in the early 70s- taking up full-time at my nearby sister's house (where she babysat often anyway, shuttled to and fro by Dad or my bro-in-law) when my nieces were still very young. But her own innate senses of goodness and obligation brought her back. I know what those are like, because I definitely got those from her- not him.
I was the surprise ending to his fatherhood, coming along at his (and my mother's) age of 43, and satisfied that Suburban Dream of having a boy you could name after yourself. By his 50s, though, he had no energy, much less interest, for any activities I might have gotten into, be it sports or scouting, and besides, don't you know, those things are EXPENSIVE, too. I can't find fault with the directions that led me into that didn't cost much, if anything: the library, the school papers, the church. Still, I wonder if I'd have felt better about the whole thing if those choices had been made BY choice instead of for me.
We never had a knock-down/drag-out about anything; I just chose not to come "home" for vacations after one hideous post-freshman summer. I know he was proud of my accomplishments- first four-year degree in the family, never mind the later stuff- and his death barely two years into my career gave him just enough of a taste of it to show off at the Senior Center without wanting very much in the way of free legal advice from me. He gave me at least some of my writing talent, my love of the Mets, and, ultimately, the freedom to decide for myself what I would do and where I would do it once it being, you know, EXPENSIVE wasn't an issue anymore.
I say all this not to praise, or to bury, but just to acknowledge that it's what was, and who he was. I give massive credit-to the rest of my family, to my dozens of good friends, to my beloved bride and child, and even to myself today- that I have become far more than who he was.
Why I am so painfully aware of that fact, when I have to rack my brain to remember even the exact months of the deaths of my mother, my in-laws and even my sister- all of whom were, and are, much closer to me? Not sure. It's not like I had a sudden rush of catharsis back then and headed south to dance on his grave or anything. I was a Good Son, helping to plan and attending the funeral and all that. About the best I can guess is that I had so little to remember him by in life, I'm more mindful of the things that changed, and didn't, after his death.
Dad was a difficult man. Even now, it's hard to express quite why that is. He did his best to avoid being any of the stereotypical things I could truly hate him for. Yes, he drank- but not to excess. Sure, he smoked- but so did my mother, and he quit cold-turkey when a late 1970s heart attack made him do so. No, he didn't cheat, and he didn't beat- but those virtues don't excuse his distance from us, always emotional and, increasingly, in distance and intentions.
For the last 20 years of his life, my father took his vacations alone. Colorado, Alaska, even England once. You could attribute it to my mother being a lousy traveler, but I think he was just so hell-bent on doing what HE wanted to, he didn't want to be bothered with, yaknow, having those pesky relatives around. He'd send postcards, and bring back little tsochkes, but these were things that were only shared in his way and on his terms.
It was like that when he was around, too. My father lived at the end of that supposedly Greatest Generation where the man of the family not only could, but was expected to, assert king-in-his-castle control all around him. Not only was he the only breadwinner, he was also the only licensed driver and, even after I got my own license, he left me off the insurance policy for the lone family car because, don't you know, insurance for teenaged boys is EXPENSIVE. So he kept control over what we did and where we went, and the only way we kids had to deal with it was to leave- my sister Donna lasting the longest, until just past 21, and I vaguely remember the shitfit my father threw over THAT rejection of his authority.
My mother even left, briefly, at one point in the early 70s- taking up full-time at my nearby sister's house (where she babysat often anyway, shuttled to and fro by Dad or my bro-in-law) when my nieces were still very young. But her own innate senses of goodness and obligation brought her back. I know what those are like, because I definitely got those from her- not him.
I was the surprise ending to his fatherhood, coming along at his (and my mother's) age of 43, and satisfied that Suburban Dream of having a boy you could name after yourself. By his 50s, though, he had no energy, much less interest, for any activities I might have gotten into, be it sports or scouting, and besides, don't you know, those things are EXPENSIVE, too. I can't find fault with the directions that led me into that didn't cost much, if anything: the library, the school papers, the church. Still, I wonder if I'd have felt better about the whole thing if those choices had been made BY choice instead of for me.
We never had a knock-down/drag-out about anything; I just chose not to come "home" for vacations after one hideous post-freshman summer. I know he was proud of my accomplishments- first four-year degree in the family, never mind the later stuff- and his death barely two years into my career gave him just enough of a taste of it to show off at the Senior Center without wanting very much in the way of free legal advice from me. He gave me at least some of my writing talent, my love of the Mets, and, ultimately, the freedom to decide for myself what I would do and where I would do it once it being, you know, EXPENSIVE wasn't an issue anymore.
I say all this not to praise, or to bury, but just to acknowledge that it's what was, and who he was. I give massive credit-to the rest of my family, to my dozens of good friends, to my beloved bride and child, and even to myself today- that I have become far more than who he was.
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no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 07:05 pm (UTC)You are a good man, regardless of what shaped you and what pushed you and whether some of those early choices were really choices. I'm honoured to know you.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 07:53 pm (UTC)Emotional abuse is really one of the hardest to categorize and acknowledge. And it's a sliding scale, and frequently unintentional. There's the overwhelming tendency on the part of the sufferers to say "it wasn't that bad, he never hit us or anything..." when the absence of love, support, and unselfish attention was still eating away at what should have been, could have been a strong filial bond.
It's a hard one to come to terms with. My mum expressed it best about my dad and I've used it many times to calm myself since then. He loves me to the best of his ability, as much as he can love anyone. It doesn't necessarily manifest in ways that I see and expect to see as manifestations of love (i.e., spending your time and energy on someone, without expecting a tangible reward or it being something you wanted to do anyways), but I've learned to look for his offers of love, as idiosyncratic and irregular as they are.
Don't know how much that meshes with how your father was, but it does sound like you're still a little unresolved on the issue. I had to go through a period of anger and mourning first, that my father isn't a "dad"... that he isn't what society tells me he should/could be, what I see other people's fathers being to them. And then I started to really pity him. He misses so much by being who he is, and frequently doesn't realize it. How lonely he must be when he has regularly pushed away those who could be his best source of comfort and connection.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-27 04:27 pm (UTC)Then again, if he had been different I would be different, and I like me.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 08:39 pm (UTC)I love you.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-27 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-26 11:23 pm (UTC)(I have nothing intelligent to add, but I wanted to acknowledge such a cogent display of self-knowledge, which many people never reach and flee from in horror.)
no subject
Date: 2011-03-27 01:45 am (UTC)