The meaning of life is that it stops. -Franz Kafka It was a sunny day. I remember that much. The fuzz of sunshine joists crashing through the blinds. Elasticated seams of light reaching for and swirling into the dumpy cigarette smoke, the heaviness of the fried meat funk, the fog of a sad strange war that teased me and repelled me at the same time. The whole scene was lovely and broken, like so many other rooms I would know in the years to come.
It’s not your fault that you felt compelled to shut him out after he came back and took off again, and again! Any sane person and loving dad would do the same thing! The greatest legacy you will leave your own kids is true love, staying and protecting them from a person who, for whatever reason(a) was unable to MAKE IT RIGHT. Sometimes we just don’t have it in us to DO something to change anything. But at least you put yourself out there. I’m so sorry for your deep pain. Thank yoI for sharing the heartbreaking truth the way you do. Wishing you and Arle comfort and healing in time. ❤️🩹
I didn’t read this one right away because I knew it would be a well written description of pain, abandonment and loss and then how to reconcile who they were and who they were to you and who I pretended and wished they were. You accomplished this with beautiful words. Amazing and haunting, as your writing always is. So many of us can relate to the story of parental abandonment whether it be physical, emotional or all of the above. I look at pics of me and my sister as little kids and think ‘who are you that you could up and leave like you did (dad)?’ And then come and go and show up or not, as it pleased you? And that I’m suppose to still love you, and out of obligation and a desperate need to want them to love us, somehow we still do love them though they really don’t deserve it. When my dad died, I was his caretaker and someone said why am I doing this? My reply was well, he may have been an a-hole and if I turn my back on him now I’ll be/feel like an a-hole so now the world has two of them. Let’s just leave it at the one. It wasnt easy and I don’t regret it. When he died, I wrote two poems; one from the person who loved my dad a lot and another from the person in me that didn’t. It was almost 15 yrs ago now and those energies still run parallel, it’s just they don’t hurt as much. You’re a great dad. Unfortunately and fortunately, we learn to be better people and parents because of what we experienced. Thank you.
It took me longer to read this weeks writing because I was also estranged from my father. A lot of wondering things and laying blame also. This is why it took me longer to get to this. I can feel your aches and pain right down to the bone. I had tears in my eyes reading this. Thanks as always Serge for sharing your life and thoughts. They help a lot of us get through our troubles, pains, and happiness. You are one brilliant writer in capturing human emotion. Thank you!!!
Thank you for sharing this piece of yourself. That was quite the eulogy. You put your soul into it, and although I am sure it would have been hard for your dad to read some of those words, taking the time and energy and bravery to do that on behalf of your relationship is about the greatest gift anyone can give. I hope sharing those words help you find strength and peace during your time of grief. Rock on...
Thanks Serge. That was powerful and beautiful.
You wrote the hell out of this one, and may the raw honesty of your words exorcise this ghost and put him to rest. No matter how old we are, losing a parent is an earthquake that rattles our world to its core. And when that relationship was damaged or toxic or unresolved, ugh. Be kind to yourself as you move through your grief. It takes many forms and follows its own path. Loss is loss and this is a huge one. Brilliant piece this week.
I feel like I read that in one breath. Every word.
Serge I’m so sorry for your loss. It is a loss and I’m grateful you were able to share this with us. Hopefully his passing will let you make peace with his life. And I also hope his death gives him the peace his damaged life did not.
"Don’t give me your lame-ass reasonings. Don’t hit me with your Christlike forgiveness talk. Do not pretend that you can say things to me that will open my eyes or calm me down or help me out because you cannot and you should know that by now." Okay. I won't. But I once did a poetry reading at TT the Bear's, maybe 30 years ago. Life is a web of weird connections.
This hit home. It takes a lot to make me cry these days. This piece did just that. No unsolicited words of attempted comfort from me - just a gentle hug.
I'm glad you wrote this one. Not that it matters if I'm glad or not about it, but seeing that you did what you set out to do and "write the hell out of this one" is something that seems right. Because that's what you do. You write your way out. Father/son relationships (outdone in intensity only by Mother/daughter relationships) run the gamut from great to fine to just plain weird to disastrous. Most of us have some of all of that along the way. I hope that spraying your mind into that laptop this week was good, healthy, and enough for you. Or at least a helluva start.
See ya next Friday. Peace.