Happy Father's Day, Dad

2004-06-14 @ 11:08 p.m.

It's the re-birthday of my dad today, MY father's day. 2 years its been and really almost surreal. I have never been good with dates and its not that I exactly I remember this one but without even triggering the feeling with recognition of the meaning of this time of year, i get really sad and I have to look inward to find the cause of my sadness and remember why. Coincidence that it happens right around Father's Day? probably not.

I felt really alone and today had to really control my feelings. It's funny how things work...after an extremely busy weekend I found myself at home on Sunday alone. My man had left back to DC, my mother pretty much stood me up in her typical busybody don't want to bother nobody fashion, my brother was out, and in the first time in over a week everything around me slowed in pace to almost a halt and I completely broke down.

I needed my mother's company but she needed to be alone, after all, his memory weighs on her heaviest from sheer time spent throught the years. And somehow, I have to figure out how to be strong enough to let her be independent, and more importantly force myself to be independent for the first time in so long. I thought of how I felt, how my brothers felt that day, and how my mom must feel everyday. I try so hard to be strong for her, to protect her, to take care of her. I just need to remember that she has always been able to take care of herself and all of us...the strongest woman I know. And though she says she lost her rock when she lost my father I truly think and she knows deep down that she was his. I love my mom, she kept my dad in line and now shes just learning how to do that for herself and I gotta steer my selfish feelings away and let her do that. She told me that her sister, my aunt offered up a mass for him today. That's a beautiful thing. And, thats all we spoke of it but I know it's because she and i both know that he is with us every day. We don't need to reconfirm what we already know and are reminded of.

Regardless, every piece of me was trying to catch up to the other... there was no synergy...my physical body could not sustain my raging emotions that have been put on hold for a week due to my crazy work schedule.

And, then I got a call...a friend who I see once in a blue moon persuaded me off my couch, out of my sweats, out of my entire pause on the fast forward i have been living. It was great company and I rested well, but today felt sad again when I had to explain my apparent mental absence though physical presence at work today.

But as I was leaving to go home and be home and was fully prepared to feel the loneliness again I walked into a huge food festival...Taste of Times Square. I ran into my friend from work and we ended up spending the evening on the streets of NYC eating great food watching swing dancers, walking, talking and then finally arriving at a performance of an a capella doo-wop group.

We stood there, swaying and singing and a collage of memories flashed through my mind. My father loved doo-wop. It was so nice. I felt at peace, calm. I have since been reminding myself of everything of my father, flipping through pictures, reading his words to me, and even looking him up online.

See, my father not only made his mark on me, but on many others as well. Love or hate, its a mark nonetheless left with words. I was pleasantly surprised to see very recent reviews of his last book before he passed. A book he slaved over, his last tour de force. A dedication to us, my family. It was his gift to us and to himself, I believe. A gift that allowed us to see his passion, and his talent in all its glory. A gift we could share as a family as a mark of achievement and combined love. A gift he knew he could not give until all was complete, all was in order, and all of us had our own path to journey. And it is because of all this that beyond the sombre feelings I know he is happy and that makes it MY Happy Father's Day. A celebration of a full life. It is only now that my dad can return the favor and really be that rock for my mom and all of us. Now that he is without the constraints of the physical.

Being the proud daughter I am, I will disclose my favorite comment of his book yet from a review on Amazon, though many others rave about his skill, his talent, his remarkable vision, I choose the one that sums up the paradoxical nature of him:

"You might conclude from my review that I have mixed feelings for the book, which, in most ways, is right. Perhaps the correct view to take is that you could either love or hate this book, but you will not be able to ignore it."

That right there was the nature of the man that was the writer, the man that was and still is my father.

And now I will share the closing passage of the book that has sentiment with each one of us in the family, one that I am reminded of coninuously;

"...and that night (she) sat with her father. She was both sad and happy. For the first time, she had him alone. She thought of all they would talk about. But he just sat there for hours in the dark living room, saying nothing. She sat with him, wondering--what is he thinking? She said nothing. Over and over, he listened to the same song lyrics until dawn broke: 'Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness every day...' "

If I could only explain to you the energy and experience I just felt in retyping those words...

So I guess to answer this, and in very much a round about but cathartic way, it is the memories that keep us going. It is experience that composes the many facets of a true education. The recollection of another place and time that reminds us that today is not the end. Without that collage I would not have anything to look back on or look forward to as there would be no reference point or benchmark of happiness.

I end with the words of others since lately I have been trouble finding mine...

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.

Carl Jung

or more simply put....

"God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December."

J.M. Barrie

Dad, I love you.

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