Would like to blog at length about the lovely [2nd annual] holiday party Patsy graciously hosted tonight at Egan & Sons for her boot camp members. I love Patsy and the women and men I work out with. They're so inspirational, so awesome, so powerful and light on their feet. We all enjoy seeing each other in jewelry and heels, hair styled, rather than stretch pants and fleeces pulled on early in the morning. We raised our glasses to another strong year, and nibbled on fresh salads, sandwiches, calamari, mini burgers, jumbo shrimp cocktail and a few bites of dessert, just for good measure. Patsy had a continuous slide show going that showed us all hard at work in BC sessions.
But...
Something serious happened today, and I want to document it here so that I always remember it. Dad and I had a fight yesterday--I had popped in with Figgy and Sug after school Wednesday, so we could drop something off to him, and learned from the very patient nurses that he had been grouchy, and cursing. It was freezing cold, and I had to hurry back to do some phone interviews for an article before leaving for a work event.
Dad didn't like that.
Take your coat and hat off, and sit down, he said.
I can't, Dad. I have to get going and do some work, but I just wanted to drop in, because I promised you I would.
It went on from there. Suffice it to say that before long he was cursing at me, as he had at the nurses. It was loud. I was mad.
Dad, I'm not going to put up with this. I'm not going to play your game. I told you, I was just dropping in. I'm sorry, I have to leave.
You always say that.
What do you mean? I'm here all the time. And a lot of times, I'm here for hours.
More yelling.
I had to go. I felt bad. But I had no choice. I bent over the bed and kissed him anyway and told him I loved him. So did Figgy. So much for doing my best. You just can't win.
The Morning After
Ever since I was a girl, Dad has "blown his stack," as he puts it. His way of saying he loses his temper. But he always has a good, golden heart and apologizes.
In fact, Daddy is so good were some of the last words my mother ever said to me.
This morning, there were two voice mails on my cell before I went to boot camp. I wanted to put the words here so I can remember them, so I can always tap into the earnestness that is my Dad. I don't think he would mind. I had tears in my eyes when I listened. I don't think I've ever heard him say Forgive me. It moved me, and made me feel sad. Like I am his lifeline and he actually thought I would abandon him. Like he is scared to be alone--and he thought he'd lost one of his biggest allies.
First message:
Okay, Al, it's ten minutes to nine. Your recording sounded very sweet and you sounded very nice, and I called up to apologize. I just got through telling the telephone operator that I have to call you and apologize for yesterday, which I felt pretty bad about as soon as I did. Why the hell I argue with you, I don't know. But at any rate, I forgive you and I want you to forgive me. And give my regards to Dan and Annie and Sugar. [sound of crying, words thick and muffled] Oh, I feel a little choked up. I'm sorry I feel so broken up over it. It was unimportant, but I shouldn't have put you in such a--such a bad spot. It wasn't nice of me. Alright, take care. Bye. Forgive me please. [loud sound of phone dropping back into cradle]
Second message:
Anyway, I called you to tell you that I assumed that you were going to drop over for a few minutes. But I hope that it wore off and that everything is going fine, and forget about yesterday. I spoke to the operator about it and she said I should be nice to you. The operator's my friend, you know. She gets all the numbers for me and does an excellent job. She reminds me of the older AT&T, when they were always very nice. Ok, take care, Al, and we hope we'll see you. Take care. Bye, and forgive me.
I was already late for 9:30 boot camp, but I dashed over to Van Dyk right after [at 10:30] and postponed my 11 A.M. phone interview to 11:30.
Did you get my messages? he said.
Dad, I said. You didn't have to worry. I love you. You and I have been friends for a long time. I'm not gonna let something like that come between us.
This may seem like a drifting, rambling post, but as I said, it captures the essence of Dad's true heart, and I always want to be able to remember it. Thank you for listening. Now you too have heard the words of a lonely man, and somehow, maybe that means his voice won't get swallowed up into the universe, flying hither and yon with no safe landing pad.
He is lonely. He is scared. It is sad. If we're lucky, we begin life welcomed into open arms. We are cuddled and rocked and loved. People have waited nine months for us to grow and be ready.
Many of us end life in a very different way.
Good night.
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Alice. It sounds like in your head you have it figured out, the motivation for the behavior, the frightening position that Uncle John recognizes for himself, his disappointment in not having you for a long visit that day, his frustration and his dependency on you – his lifeline to the outside world. That’s a heavy burden for you, but you are holding strong day after day and rising to the task in an inspiring way… the way that you juggle it all and put your dad always at the top of the list. But an argument still hurts. Love, Linda
ReplyDeleteP.S. Next visit, please give Uncle J my love and regards and tell him that our family thinks about him often.
I love that you recorded your dad's messages. It occurs to me reading it how very many different ways it could be interpreted at different times in your life. A young daughter, a teen or a young adult, might read it (or hear it) with resentment and self-righteousness. "Silly old man. Of course, he was wrong. Good thing he realizes it!" A daughter in the middle of her life might interpret it as, "He is lonely. He is scared. It is sad...[but it is] the essence of Dad's true heart."
ReplyDeleteI wonder, in 20 years from now, when we've experienced more life and more beauty and more pain, how we daughters might read back on this passage? Maybe: "How brave of Dad to acknowledge he was unreasonable! How marvelous he still had some fight in him! How wonderful we could share got to share those intimate and honest moments together, both in anger and forgiveness, knowing that the deep cord of love would never fray from one argument."
Gosh, families are complicated no matter how young or old we are, huh?
Hi Lin and Hi Kim. thank you so much for your supportive notes. I really appreciate them. Lin, I will send him your love. And Kim, you are right--it occurred to me that maybe it's a good sign that he still has some fight in him. But i am starting to find the visits and the commitment to them wearing. My love for him is just as strong, but i feel pulled in several directions. it is hard. love, alice
ReplyDeleteThis is really amazing. I'm impressed that he can articulate his feelings so well ... not because he is old, or ill, but because he's a man of his generation! I'm sorry that you had an argument, but glad you wrote down the apology that followed.
ReplyDeleteI'm in a similar boat with my mom. It is really hard.
Hi Eileen. I remember your mom from your wedding and she is a delightful person. I'm sorry you're in the same boat. I'm sorry she is not doing well. It is very, very hard for everyone involved. I was thinking about your comment. I think a man of his generation was able to do this b/c he was leaving a message, you know? Not saying all of that at length to me, or in person. I am thinking of you. love, alice xoxo
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