Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Triumph and Failure, Best Friends for Life

I assure you that it has not been nearly as long as the previous post suggests, since I wrote to you all. I merely cleaned up the backlog, took out some of the more biting epitaphs that I had penned.

How fitting it is then, that this post is to commemorate my dearly departed father.  Now, please note that the use of 'dearly' is more in keeping with a time and place where one has reverence and sincere sadness for the passing of one's father.

Several weeks ago a dear friend of mine lost her grandmother.  Not wanting to ask my friend herself about the funeral arrangements, I went to my hometown's newspaper to see if anything had been posted yet.  Imagine my shock when I fail to find my friend's grandmother and instead, find my own fathers name.

My father was a distant man who did not want me.  I'm not being self-deprecating here, he literally did not want me.  After he and my mother got pregnant with me, he informed her that it was entirely her choice to keep me or not, but that he would not be there.  To his credit, he kept his word, and it wasn't until I was 12 that I met him, and only a handful of times after that.

I am a lot like my father in many ways, much to my mothers chagrin.  I have his feet and his hands (and now my son does too), his vulgar mouth, his lack of a "filter", and his high-gear emotions. I'm never quite lukewarm where feelings are concerned.  Which adds a bit of ironic humor to why he always thought I was mad at him, probably because I was the only person in his life to ever request accountability from him.  It wasn't until last year when my mother told me about the near-fatal abuse that she suffered at his hands, that I truly realized what I kind of man I came from. Our last few conversations were of me wanting answers, acknowledgements, and apologies from him.  He had one Ace-in-the-hole that he loved to play though, one thing that got him out of any trouble that was heading his way, God.  He was adamant that "God", "Heaven", and "the Angels" all have a plan for each of us.  He assured me that I didn't have to understand it and whats-more, I shouldn't even try. I should just accept that heaven has a plan and that everything he did, or would do, everything I felt, including the answers I wanted, were all part of "the plan".

Well, right about now I'm feeling particularly dicked by "the plan". I am not heartbroken that a stranger I didn't know is now gone. I am not sad that I will never get answers.  I did get them.  They were ridiculous excuses, but they were also his truths.  He genuinely believed that he was but a puppet for the almighty and that everything that took place in his life was part of "the plan".

In a way, I'm glad that that chapter of my life is over.  I'm glad that I found his complete opposite in my partner. I'm beyond glad that my son will never wonder where his father is, or why he's not there to tuck him in.  He'll never ask us if we loved him, because he will never feel like we don't.

There are some things in life that we just have to make peace with.  The actions of others are one of those things.

My final thoughts are this:
Love people with all your heart. And give that love to the people who deserve it.  Bloodlines make a relatives - love makes a family.


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