As we go through life we touch the lives of others, just as they in turn touch ours, often in the most unexpected ways. Recently I met Pat, (aka..mum) in #50+anew, an IRC chat channel. We had not spoken long when she told me of the recent passing of her father and how devastated she was by the loss. Although this was inspired by Pat, I sincerely hope that others can relate to the sadness that comes from allowing chasms to form, for whatever reason, between the ones we should be the closest to.
This is her story and for all the Pat's out there who are estranged from someone special in their life.
I dread the night and all that it brings
Tormented recollections and anguished regrets
Whilst other sleep in the comfort of their beds
I spend my nocturnal hours searching,
Searching for answers that I know will not easily come
I raise my tired eyes to the heavens and stare into the emptiness
The twinkle of stars serves only as a reminder of missed opportunities
Chances that were ignored and often pushed aside from my lifes path
because the seeds of turmoil were sown when I was but a child
My thoughts slowly start to drift back, back to a venomous time
like a thick and vile ooze, it creeps along,
filling every crevasse of my mind
obliterating all feelings of warmth and caring
As a child, I did not know his presence, for his work kept him from me.
I was the youngest of 3, whom came into this world rejected
To his regret, I was born a female as were my siblings
To be so disregarded because of chance, would long haunt us all
Resentment festered and even a young child can sense,
the disappoint of our gender and the loss of 3 unborn boys
The foundation was well laid and his absence was a short lived blessing
For rebellion coursed through my veins and it cost me dearly and often
For the sting of his belt cut deeper than he realized
causing unseen wounds that spread the poison of hatred
Emotional scars, that would lay open beneath the skin
a constant reminder, a relentless pain that would not cease
When came the time that he was home
The damage had been done, set in stone,
as was my heart, cold and unfeeling
towards this man, this man that was my father
My eyes shift from star to star against the backdrop of the night sky.
My heart pounds and my blood boils and the rage surges within me
The child in me screams at this uncaring man, my father
I am your daughter, your blood, your flesh, as are my sisters
Were we so low and vile in your eyes
as to not deserve your love and affection
Was your need so great for a son that you could not love us
for what and who we were, your daughters
The floodgates of memories wash over me,
bashing me, tossing me, like a tiny dingy upon the surf,
slammed against the jagged coral edges of time
ripping my flesh, spilling my blood and reliving those awful years
Adolescence was filled with even more cause for hate
barely into my teens, my parents parted ways
yet again another wedge to separate and divide us
and still this man, my father, had control over us
Mum sacrificed herself for us and returned to him,
so that I could have a place to call home
3 more hate filled years passed and I endured,
Despising it and him all the more
Upon my seventeenth year I'd had enough
Words of a welcomed returned fell on deaf ears
as I parted the home for the last time as its resident
for I wanted nothing more to do with this man, my father
My wedding day came and went and he chose not to attend
Yet another insult added to an already bitter brew
Years passed and the chasm grew wider and deeper,
filled with a dark and foreboding stagnant lake of unforgiving resentment
I return to the present and stand in silence for the longest time,
fixated by a lone star twinkling brightly in the deepening darkness.
The sounds of the evening slowly filter back into my consciousness,
the pounding of my heart slows and I am again along with my thoughts
13 years pass and I too am now a mother, tending my children as best I can
I began to understand that with all his faults, my father,
this man that I had for so long despised, had done his best.
Maybe I too bore as much blame as he for all my misery.
Then one special Christmas, like none before or since.
We gathered as a family, setting aside our differences.
Little did we know that it would be the last for
the dark clouds of change were already on the horizon.
Although the undercurrents of resentment ran deep,
we all tried our best to reconcile the past.
Photos taken, albeit posed would forever be a reminder,
of the way it could have been, all those long wasted years
Tears flood my eyes and sadness claws my heart with iron talons,
digging deep, the sharpness of which, causes me to catch my breath.
My mind meanders on this lonely path of remembrance and the
journey continues towards the ominous clouds and tempest winds.
Within a fortnight, the shadow of sickness fell upon my father.
Although we had calamities of our own, this man, my father although gravely ill,
thought not of himself but was deeply sadden that he could not come to our aid.
He cried openly, his tears washing away my bitterness and resentment.
Spring was approaching and I felt a need in my heart
A need to visit my father, to be there for him, for a change
No longer the invincible man who'd always be there
but a fragile shell, frightened and very much mortal.
His condition was grave and for the first time,
I looked upon him with compassion and concern
The time spent together gave me insights which
opened my eyes and allowed me to see.
We spoke at length about many things and the more we talked
the more I needed to be close to this man, my father.
I saw him not as a bitter child but as a grown woman
who had learned that importance of what he truly meant to me.
Daily phone calls drew us closer together than we had ever been
before and the tides of hatred slowly started to recede.
We shared much as we spoke, even the need for belief in god
something my father had shunned all his life.
Now nearing the end, we finally saw each other for what we really were.
A man who'd tried his best to raise a family and a child who couldn't see
past his imperfection and needed more than he could offer.
And yet he was my father, this man with all his faults
Come late fall, I went to visit for what turned out to be our last.
The sickness had ravaged him and he was but a skeleton of his former self.
We spent many an hour talking for I had so much to make up for
So many things accumulated over the years , not said
Before I left, that very last time
I hugged this man , my father and told him I loved him.
I held back the tears of sadness, for I didn't want him see.
And for a second time I saw my father cry.
Returning home, I received a letter, the first in almost 22 years
Along with it he sent his watch and a crucifix,
given him by a soldier, at the tender age of 12
Now comforting reminders, of the man, my father
We spoke more often after that, sometimes numbering three.
A need to fill the vacancy of so many years wasted.
Those calls came to mean so much to me because,
now.......it was my turn to be there for him.
Come January, that awful month, a month I'll never forget.
I called as always expecting to hear his voice.
The nurse said softly.....prepare yourself,
and within an hour and a half ..........he was gone.
I return to the present, still staring at the skies
I can not hold back the tears, or the heaviness in my heart.
My vision is obscured and the stars are but a blur
and I am lost in my grief.
Throughout my life I resented him, despised him
hated and rejected him and yet now
Having grown to love the man, after all these wasted years
I feel the guilt of all the might have beens.
So every night, I come out and scan the stars
and relive the ordeal from start to finish.
Searching for a peace, a forgiveness, within myself
so that I may remember with love, this man, my father.
Pat
& Her Father - 1998