fathers – The Wind

It took soul-searching, or rather “skinning” myself to get down to the layers of pain in my hard heart. I think I finally peeled off all the bandages that I had wrapped around the wound in my heart, and I came to the thorn…the nugget of truth about what was hurting so bad.

I am still grieving for my Dad who died three years ago on March 7, 2016. I have been doing God’s Job, judging him by my flawed human standards, and thinking I will never see him again. My heart has just been rent in two, He was like my child in the Dementia/Alzheimer’s years. Before that, he was the one man I adored, a happy glance and kind word would have made my life perfect, but he wasn’t that guy much. He was an angry, selfish and hateful man to nearly everyone in his immediate family (including me, most of the time), but once in a while the Sun broke thru. Oh, and when it did we all basked in it’s glow.

He was like the smartest man in the world to me, and as a small child it was Dad who sparked my love of nature, especially birds. He could tweet as sweetly as the cutest songbird, and when he was funny and joking around all of us would roll with laughter, even Mum. He took my brother and I sled riding, and out for ice cream. He came to my basketball games and cheered me on, and saw me hit home runs in softball, and he puffed up with pride. In my memory he had a charismatic glow, and he would reel people in with his magnetism, and dark Sicilian good looks. In other words, he was my hero. At least during my youngest years.

I idolized him, and devoted my life to the impossible task of pleasing him.

( I am coming back to this post after a couple weeks away, been battling some serious physical ailments that have culminated with steroids and antibiotics and bedrest.)

While re-reading this I am struck be how this love/idolize/hate/regret thing has just repeated itself infinitely in my conscious life. As I come closer to letting go of this horrible baggage, I see this thing, this greasy fast-food wrapper of death languidly twirling in the wind, it’s grey, spindly arms trying to latch onto me again.

I DO NOT HAVE TO CARRY THIS ANYMORE.

I DO NOT HAVE TO GRIEVE ANYMORE.

I DO NOT HAVE TO FEEL ANY GUILT ANYMORE, FOR JESUS CHRIST’S RANSOM COVERED MY SIN’S AND CONTINUES TO.

JESUS’ RANSOM COVERED DAD’S SINS TOO.

I DO NOT HAVE TO FORGET DAD, BUT I AM ALLOWED TO, AT LEAST UNTIL IT DOES NOT HURT SO BAD…NO ONE CAN SEE INSIDE MY HEART EXCEPT GOD. JEHOVAH.

so quickly the dark tries to rush in, the way a black tide sneaks up the white beach at night, as you lie with your cheek to the sand… see? this time it came to there, the next time up to there, ah, now it’s tickling your finger…oh! now its falling away….but wait..wait,,,wait for, wait for it….here it comes and UP! we leap and run for our lives!!!!

Dad was so animated and happy today, I will try to always remember him like this. He was telling me about his friendship with Fred Astaire, which I am sure occurred only in his mind! How wonderful to believe such amazing things about yourself and your life. Really, he doesn’t need to be more amazing, Dad was always a fascinating person. He loved science, astronomy, metallurgy, believed in UFO’s, was a tap dancer in the 1940’s and 50’s, a WW2 veteran, all while looking like a movie star!

Sure, there have been times in my life when we could not stand to be in the same room together, and I often speak of his emotional abuse. However, that does not change the fact that he is an extraordinary human being in many ways. His family was from Sicily, they immigrated in the early 1900’s. They became fairly successful in the produce business, and eventually my Grandfather opened a ice cream parlor that morphed into a restaurant/billiard parlor, with a poker room in the back. My Dad and his brother, my Uncle Joe, were running the place as they grew up, hustling 9-ball, and “pill” pool, “chicago”, and straight pool.

Wow! Can Pops play some 9-ball. He comes from the old school, no safeties, no hiding the ball. Just flat out shoot-till-you-miss 9-ball. Dad must have been something when he was younger. I remember when my high school girlfriends would want to come to my house to see my father!!

“Oooo, your dad is soooo handsome…” with much batting of eyelashes.

I can’t imagine what Mom had to deal with. I know I was his daughter, and I suspected him of cheating all the time. I remember times when I would see him with ladies from his work, and they all seemed to be swooning! I was just a kid, so I wanted to puke! Today I realize that he could not help it, he has (or, had) that special quaility. Charisma. He makes you feel like you are part of some exciting mystery, or conspiracy.

Now he’s just nuts. But I sure love him. Even when I hate him, I still would cut my heart out with a butter knife for his approval. (sorry about the visuals there…)

About 10 years ago, when my Brother and Dad owned a Pool Hall together, the “young ladies” (as dad would call them- I have another name!) would come rushing up behind the bar squealing, “TONY!!!”, arms outstretched, ready to leap on his lap and topple the chair over.