Dad

 I want to write about my dad but how do you put into words a million of reasons and feelings that have no words? 

I have to try. I have to write something. . . when I started this journal, I never thought how raw the words would pour out and scar the page. But now..... Now I need it to see in black and white what my mouth and voice could never put a sound on.

How do I even begin? I mean...... Where do I start? 

Ok, lets just put on the table what my pain really is..... Dad is elderly. And he is feeble. And it is breaking me. 

God! Can anyone understand? I don't even know how to put into words how it is shattering my mind and spirit. 

I visited dad last week up in Michigan. I am from Tennessee now and it is quite a trip to get to him and there are times I don't physically see or hug him for over a year. The last two visits though have been in six months because before last Christmas, my dad had a stroke. Not a major make him paralyzed or disabled one but a big enough one to change him. . . to change him from the man I know and grew up with. After looking at the MRI that stroke was not the only one.... He has had others too. And it is eating away at me each time I talk to him. 

My dad was the type of dad that lead his house. And my dad's house was not a building, it was his marraige and his children and his family and his friends and his grit and his whole way of life. His house was not things, it was people and his deep down core values that he pulled from to lived by. 

Do you see? Can you understand why I am breaking?

My dad is the type of man that couldn't give a care in the world about a broken toy but would get in a rage if his boys were fighting with each other. My dad was the type of man  that would fight an insurance company tooth and nail over a bill but wouldn't blink an eye to buy his friend a set of tires they needed for the upcoming winter. My dad would take a belt to my behind for lying or stealing but would drive three hours up to my college in order to surprise me with my dog after I called him defeated in tears and rage about failing the third test in a row in quantitative analysis.

My dad was the type of man that didn't keep score or thought anyone of his friends owed him for anything. My dad was the type of man that always made the right choice in all his decisions. My dad was the type of that drew good men around him that would literally do anything to help him.... No strings attached. My dad was the type of man that was intelligent and wise but was humble enough to know there were others that he could learn from. My dad was the type man that could be hard as steel but also was kind and accepting of anyone at face value. 

My dad was the type of man that would answer the phone to his broken down crying son whether it was one in the afternoon or one in the morning and give him calm and reassuring comfort and wisdom when his son didn't know what else to do. 

That is the type of man my dad is.... Was.....

Can you see know? Can you understand why I am breaking? 

My dad was the type of husband that was so loyal that no woman ever tested him but in which all women envied his wife. He was the type of husband that showed his love to her without shame and made sure his children knew that she was a priority in his life. He would be a partner in caring for the house and the kids. . . especially his boys. . .me. He would be flirty and playful. He would be giddy when he would surprise her with gifts or flowers. He would care for her tenderly when she was sick or had surgery. And, he would brag to others about her. I saw it all and I took careful note of it. 

Dad spent time with us and talked with us and expressed his views and feelings with us. He knew that we all were different and set different boundaries for us as he saw what we needed. He trusted mom's advice for us and would take her lead when he was unsure. But mostly, being a dad was just part of his being. It was like he was born to be a dad and was so confident in all he did with us and for us. 

That was the type of man my dad is. . . was

I visited him again so soon after I visited him six months before and he is not the same man I knew. He seems less confident. He seems frail and unsure of himself. He slurs his words and he loses his train of thought. He doesn't laugh as easily and he is more quiet than he ever was. He rambles his thoughts as he is thinking them and they seem so random and disorganized. It's like he is another person. 

He seems so different from the man I knew growing up. 

And he doesn't whistle anymore. 

And that thought alone catches in my throat and pulls tears unbidden out of my eyes. 

How can he not feel like whistling?

God! I am feeling the loss of never hearing his whistle again!

Then I think about what type of man I have become. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that he is tickled and proud of who I am and what I have done with my life. But in my mind, I think that I will never be the man he is.... Was. This feeling I have... This unworthiness plagues my journals. And I look up to my dad and can only hope to grind my teeth and dig in my heels and pull up the grit I need to hit this life full in the face just like he did. I want to be the husband he was and the father he was when I was growing up. I want to be the man he was, the man I knew, the man I experienced. But I just don't feel like I am there. I just don't feel like I am getting it done like he did.  

Did he worry and think like that? My head and reason say yes but my eyes and gut can't believe it. I don't want to know. I don't want it to be true. I want to remember him as I do right now. I want to remember the leader I have in my memory. I want him to stay that man in my child's mind that never saw weakness in him. 

I could only hope to feel like I am the man I know my dad to be. 

So today is a hard day. I am trying to let go. I am trying to let go and admit to myself that my dad is not that man anymore and to admit that he is elderly. I have to admit that he has had several strokes and will not be the man I knew growing up. 

And I don't want to. I don't want to face that truth. I'm not ready. I will never be ready.

So, I am struggling. I don't want to admit it.  Because of the type of man my dad was. 

Homeland - R.A. Salvatore

 

I read this book when I was in my early teens and I was in middle school at the time. It was not a good time for me in school because I was a socially awkward, large for my age, uncoordinated, not cool , not in the “in crowd” kid. Yeah, I was one of those. If you were not in that group when you were in school, then just let me tell you a little secret. . . It was like having my own little piece of hell. Things did get better as I got closer and closer to graduating though.

        I had some pretty good things going for me. My home life was fine with great parents that were supportive and involved. They had a very strong marriage, and they were all in when it came to their kids. So, my home life was really great. It was just those hours I was at school that were difficult. And my mom with her superpowers of just knowing that I was struggling but not wanting to put it all out on the table, pushed me into reading which was a great way to just take mental breaks from the chaos of school.

        And that is where this book comes in. It resonated with me and really encouraged how I was already feeling about myself. First of all, the whole fantasy elf magic multiple gods thing was just the carrier of the content that resonated with me on a very personal level.

        First of all, just like Drizzt, I understood what it was like to be an individual with a different set of core values living in a society that was so contradictive to what I was holding dear in my heart. I understood the “man against the machine” stresses of holding true to who I was. I knew first hand how they attack you and scorn you for not being like them. . . . not following their stupid social rules. I truly could sympathize how my inner feelings and core spirit would never change to the dogma and wrong that was a socialized norm for them. I saw how others would bend and fall into being one of them and for me, I just would not fall. I would not trade who I was to have an easier life in school. I knew deep down that I would never be one of them. I could never be like them.

        I truly resonated with the thoughts and actions of Drizzt and how he looked at things like family and love and courage and strength and power. And those concepts were not the same as those around me. I had my family and my life outside of school and great mentors that were guiding me in lots of different directions counter to the culture and whims of the school. What I saw and felt and experienced outside of school were so contradictive to what I saw happening in school. . . All of the blind following and false grabs at attention and status. It was pretty sad to see from an outside perspective.

        I looked at how Drizzt soul searched and really dug deep into who he was as a person and what he had to offer to himself and to the world as a whole. He questioned himself and his motives all the time. He questioned a world view of status and evil his people had with skepticism and judged if it was right or wrong based on his own feelings of right and wrong. He learned how to trust and not trust. He also held true to himself and focused on what it was about himself that made him worthwhile in the grand scheme of the world and his place in the universe. As I read the pages of his thoughts and actions, I would gravitate to wanting to do the same thing and started to look at those around me with a different set of eyes.

        I also believed that there was another side in which I could escape if I just had the patience and the sight to know when it was time to take a step out of the line and into a different lane. I always thought, “I will make my own fork in the road of my life and then make a right turn.” And you know what? It did happen. It was inevitable. People have choices even when it feels like they don’t. It all has to do with having the courage and the grit to see the choices you have and then to take that one step forward.

        Now that I look back, it was not so important that I fit in and went with the flow. It was more important to always become the adult I was meant to be. I had to dig deep and really explore and develop and spend time on who I was and who I would be. I am a much better adult now because I chose to work on that awkward targeted teen back then. All those things that held me back and singled me out as a teen in school were actually productive and needed as an adult. Who would have thunk it?