I know you died almost 5 years ago today, but this isn’t something I’ve wanted to do.
Until now.
I had actually meant to call you earlier that week. I had been thinking about the days you spent teaching me to ride horseback – and the first day I soloed in your airplane after you spent countless hours patiently teaching me.
But I didn’t call. Because I also remembered the other stuff. The pain, humiliation, never being good enough – being the butt of all your jokes… The other things never spoken of. My own son still didn’t understood why I never took him to see his grandfather after his grandmother passed away. And he was angry with me for a long time when he realized he’d never see you again. Someday I may share with him why.
I want you to know Dad, the pain hasn’t left – the humiliation either. They have only begun to lessen. But something has joined them that I was in no way prepared to feel.
Sorrow.
I guess, bottom line, good or bad, right or wrong, you were my father. I inherited my joy in music from you. Other things too – but this is not the time to rehash those old wounds.
I may not be able to explain the sorrow… but I guess I have it to carry for a while. Understand, Dad – it’s not the heart-rending pain that I suffered when Snick passed away … but it’s still there – like a small black hole in my personal universe.
So I want to do the dutiful thing … no … I want to do what is right in my heart, and that is to thank you for the good times (though few) we DID have, and start letting go of the bad.
Rest in peace, Dad. I wish things could have been better between us.
Your number two son,
Marcus
Reblogged this on Dream Big, Dream Often and commented:
This is Survivor Road!
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Thank you for the reblog. Of all the pieces I’ve written, this is one that I never would have thought someone would reblog. I can’t thank you enough. Opening your heart is scary business, but sometimes you get blessed with someone else appreciating your recovery. Thanks.
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I appreciate the honesty and guts it took to publish that post. I am not so sure I could do the same. Great job.
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You pour out your soul in every post you write. I think we each shine in our own areas. The trick is getting others to see it. Hence: blogging 🙂
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This is a great BLog. Love your openness and honesty. I will be following it. It really reached me.
thanks again.
rich
justanothersurvivror.wordpress.come
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Thank you for the encouragement. Sometimes we just need a pat on the back. …or at least a verbal “good job”
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I’m a 1 in 6 Marcus. And I had a terrible relationship with my father, who died just over a year ago. We have a lot in common.
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Good meeting you. This may sound weird, but I’m sorry we have a lot in common. I’d rather on one else on the planet has gone through similar things to what I have. But I sure am glad you stopped by and let me know I have another survivor-brother out there.
As for me and my father – you can see by this post it took 5 years to get to this point. And it still hurts. I have one other posts that deal with him also … not quite as kind as this one.
Again, thank you for stopping by and commenting.
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My father refused to see me before he died. Not because of something I had done to him but rather many things he had done to me. I tried therapy later (https://ianprobertbooks.wordpress.com/2015/06/10/my-visit-to-a-shrink-2/) to no avail.
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Had one therapist sit the whole meeting nodding his head, like his faked agreeing with me would help. He didn’t seem to like it when I told him I wasn’t coming back to watch his incessant bobble-head.
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[…] Dear Dad […]
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thanks for the linkup
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