You are the missing element in my scrapbooks. No, wait. There’s that one picture that mom took of you with Roxanne, Kirk, and me in San Francisco; I kept it in my planner in middle school. One Christmas, Grandma sent me pictures of our annual (well, it used to be annual) visit on Christmas morning; I scrapbooked that. Oh yeah, and there’s that page of you and Uncle Jay as kids on the ranches--the cowboy tribute page.
Other than those three pictures, drilled into my visual memory, you’re absent.
When you were around, we didn’t take many pictures of you. We were probably afraid to disturb you. Maybe you were drunk, so we were too ashamed to take the pictures. We were probably afraid that you would yell at us. Or, maybe, we just didn’t want to have to talk to you. Then again, it’s possible you were out in the garage filling your body with the flakes we found in the glove box of the boat. We knew all your hiding places.
After “the divorce,” our interactions were even more forced and awkward than they were before the bless-ed day you signed those papers. I never thought that was possible. I didn’t make eye contact with you, let alone take your picture. I was too busy crying because you brought Her to Grandma’s house. Why did you do that to me?
I actually have pictures of you on the side table. In my home. I put them there. I chose them. Pictures of you and your dad. Two of them. I wonder if you loved him and if he loved you.
Is that man in the cowboy hat the reason that you have failed at fatherhood? I never knew him. He died when you were a teenager. A car accident. Alcohol in his blood, of course. You were in high school. For me, that was about the time that you were making the most vivid, nasty imprint on my life. I used to wish you were dead. Now, now things are different. I just pretend that you’re not alive.
Just look at my scrapbooks.
4 comments:
Wow -
I do not have a great relationship with my father - for different and the same reasons - and I know how difficult that has been for me to understand. I cannot imagine what you are experiencing, but I think that it is important that you are looking at and exploring it. I believe you will only be a better person by traveling that path and learning that your dad's decisions and actions are his alone, yet, we both know that they are also reflected on you.
I know that sounds weird. But, they are reflected on you. I have always tried (!) to make Brandon and Breanna understand that all I want for them is to be better than me. What I mean from that is that I want them to have power, confidence, security, and pure happiness. I know that I am definately a flawed mom and I have worked hard to instill in my kids 'lessons' to make them better people. I just hope that they have all those things mentioned above in at least a greater measure than I do.
I also know that your dad, no matter what you think, wants the same things for you - even if he cannot verbalize it. All parents want that for their children. And, in a sense he has given it to you. He has shown you all of the things that you do not want in a husband, all the ways to not raise you children - but he has also shown you the improtance of knowing the good in yourself, having confidence, knowing what you want in life, and loving those that you hold dear closely. Because - you absolutely are on that path, my dear (OK, still working on it, but on the path)!
I also know that you struggle with your understanding / beliefs in God / religion. I do think that you would agree with me, however, that God does place events and people in our lives that allow us to grow and to become better people. I can think of several people that have been in (and some back out) of my life that have caused me pain and lack of confidence / understanding of myself. I also hated them, but I think if I reflect back that they have made me a better person. I have learned 'things' from them whether good or bad. If good, I have been somewhat shocked. If bad, I know that I will not allow that trait to penetrate and I will not allow it to be reflected through me onto others. You have the same lessons to learn.
Man, I wish I was as good of a writer as you (and Kimberly and Bea), but hey, I'm a math teacher. Know that I, like many around you, love you and would do absolutely anything for you. Your dad is reflected in you - you give more of your love and friendship (sooooo unconditional) to so many people, he is not like that. You saw what it did to you and your family, and you will end that hurt now with your more than awesome goodness.
Love you - sorry I ramble - don't change!
Cyn
Sherry,
This entry is powerful in so many ways. I am struggling to articualte what I wish to say... I feel that nothing I say could express how proud I am of you for exploring a topic that has always been painful for you. I appreciate Cyndie's response because it holds a great deal of truth. Although your father will never be the dad that you deserve, he has been a model of the attitudes, behaviors, and values that you will never tolerate in a. a significant other and b. (most importantly) yourself.
I love you. I love who you are.
Thanks for your words, Cyndie and Jessica. I'm storing them in my heart.
Sherry, you are becoming a surprising writer. (In a very good, raw sort of way.) This post affected me, not so much because of the commonalities we share that I never knew about, but because of the power in which your words have been formed.
One of the things that I find most ironic, (though not unappealing) is that, though you tell your father that you are pretend[ing] that [he's] not alive. you have been writing about him more frequently, at least in a way that you feel comfortable with your readers to see. I am glad for this, as I know the healing that can be brought about through this; it helps you to get out all of the pain hidden deep inside of you, eventually dredging up something like forgiveness.
I really appreciate it when you say I actually have pictures of you on the side table. In my home. I put them there. I chose them. because I chose not to put up photos of my biological parents. I have a couple. In a photo album near the back that I don't typically parade around. I can see your strength in putting up those two photos and I am proud of you for it.
Thank you for this post, Sherry. You make me want to write about my family (which I think I might do.)
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