Attraversiamo - let's cross over
"Umm, I don't think he's coming back."
-Me talking to my mother about a month after my father said he'd "call later"
That one moment defined my life.
To say my parents had a contentious divorce would be an understatement. Actually, the divorce was fairly simple - the part leading up to the divorce? Contention at it's finest. Our last family vacation was nearly a year before my father would choose to depart. It was a road trip to New Orleans. I'm not sure anyone even spoke during the 11 hour drive. Our photos look like lifeless bodies propped up against each other. I don't even think one exists of the 3 of us. I didn't even get a beignet - the real tragedy of the story. Pretty sure we could have just driven down the street and pitched a tent and had equally as good a time, probably better because I could have just walked home.
That one moment defined my life. That one moment I assumed defined my father's life. There had to be countless sleepless nights, so much regret, so much anguish, so much unhappiness. It would be years before I would find my father and many more before my father and I would reach a point where I could try and get to know him, aka: make peace with my anger to make room for acknowledgment. What I learned was that he was too busy being defined by his own "one moment" in time to give much thought to mine. He was too wrapped up in his own story to think about the one he wrote for me. His life was an endless series of stops and starts, a cryptic game, a camouflaged facade that was ever changing. Was he happy? It was never an option for him. It was never a life goal. To listen to him tell his story sounds a bit like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid meets John Dilligner - pretty fascinating and if I weren't his kid I'd probably enjoy it quite a bit more.
My father's been sick the past few years, however, he's been walking towards a light that isn't even on for as long as I can remember. I've always been the one to say "NO NO, I PROMISE IT'S FUN HERE! STAY AWHILE!" - sort of like life's cheerleader - "LOOK! I'll make straight A's! No? Hmm...Graduate early? Speak French? Look perfect? Be perfect? TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO?!?" I've always hoped I could cheer him towards happiness...towards LIVING. But in reality, this is his life. This is what happiness looks like for him. His story isn't about me. His story happened long before me.
Life defining moments? I think it's time I got that beignet and wrote my own.
-Me talking to my mother about a month after my father said he'd "call later"
That one moment defined my life.
To say my parents had a contentious divorce would be an understatement. Actually, the divorce was fairly simple - the part leading up to the divorce? Contention at it's finest. Our last family vacation was nearly a year before my father would choose to depart. It was a road trip to New Orleans. I'm not sure anyone even spoke during the 11 hour drive. Our photos look like lifeless bodies propped up against each other. I don't even think one exists of the 3 of us. I didn't even get a beignet - the real tragedy of the story. Pretty sure we could have just driven down the street and pitched a tent and had equally as good a time, probably better because I could have just walked home.
That one moment defined my life. That one moment I assumed defined my father's life. There had to be countless sleepless nights, so much regret, so much anguish, so much unhappiness. It would be years before I would find my father and many more before my father and I would reach a point where I could try and get to know him, aka: make peace with my anger to make room for acknowledgment. What I learned was that he was too busy being defined by his own "one moment" in time to give much thought to mine. He was too wrapped up in his own story to think about the one he wrote for me. His life was an endless series of stops and starts, a cryptic game, a camouflaged facade that was ever changing. Was he happy? It was never an option for him. It was never a life goal. To listen to him tell his story sounds a bit like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid meets John Dilligner - pretty fascinating and if I weren't his kid I'd probably enjoy it quite a bit more.
My father's been sick the past few years, however, he's been walking towards a light that isn't even on for as long as I can remember. I've always been the one to say "NO NO, I PROMISE IT'S FUN HERE! STAY AWHILE!" - sort of like life's cheerleader - "LOOK! I'll make straight A's! No? Hmm...Graduate early? Speak French? Look perfect? Be perfect? TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO?!?" I've always hoped I could cheer him towards happiness...towards LIVING. But in reality, this is his life. This is what happiness looks like for him. His story isn't about me. His story happened long before me.
Life defining moments? I think it's time I got that beignet and wrote my own.