First of all, thanks to Mormon Enigma for thinking of fun things like this for all of us to participate in and share about each other's experiences.
I was thinking about what possible deep dark secret I could talk about and expose, a demon to face or dirty laundry air out, but my life is not that complex (I was raised a goody-two-shoes Mormon kid, 'nuff said!)--the deepest darkest secret of my life was me being gay and that is slowly but surely becoming more and more a reality, past that I think my life might actually be just like anyone else's if not actually boring!!
So in coming up with something to talk about the past, I decided to talk about my father. I am the third child in a household of of two boys + 7 (yes, you read that right) girls. Of course not all of us come from the same dad, took my mom 3 men to rack up that many children. My dad was her second husband. I don't know the details of how they met or what their married life was like because I was about 5 years old when they split up and my dad took me, one of my older sisters & my younger brother to live with him--to this day I don't know what posessed my mom to allow that--but we were really raised by my paternal grandmother or as much as she could do for us, my dad drove a truck all over the country so he was there maybe on weekends.
Whatever little I remember about him was that he was a practical & pragmatic man. He had a way with words and could express himself fairly easy. He was likely an extrovert & very easy going, he had friends all over the place. Sometimes I would get lucky to be taken on a work trip with him if I was not in school and I probably remember him being at his happiest showing me the world and the people he knew. He tried to teach me how to swim (although I failed miserably). He taught me how to write funny letters to my mom--yes, way back when people still actually wrote letters-- and I'm sure as much as I could understand he tried to take the best care of us in a way he could/knew how. We were poor, no doubt but probably had everything we needed and were provided as much as private school--years later my sister told me how he managed to do this to my amazement!! The bad side of my father was that he drank, smoked and lived a very unhealthy lifestyle--he wasn't LDS but knew somethings about the church through the family--. He would usually drank himself silly every weekend and once when he was drunk he bet on a game or something which caused him to get his head shaved in front of the whole neighborhood--yet he stood there and took it like a man--I was horribly embarrased of this, I do remember that much...
About six years later my mom (who had moved across the country) sent word for us to come and visit her (and her new husband/children) for the summer. Arriving to see mom was interesting, she had a nice house, nice car, nice life, nice husband, nice kids, what was not to like? We were asked if we wanted to stay and the obvious answer out of an 11 year old had to have been: Hell yeah!!! It is about this time that my family converted to the LDS Church. I'm sure that crushed my dad & it must have helped his life to spiral even more out of control. Gaining a new life as my mom called it gave me tons of resentment towards my dad & anything that had to do with him. I was taught by mom to forget the past and never go back and I did a great job at it!!! About three years later he passed away from a massive heart attack at about age 36. I remember being told about it and standing there totally numb & not wanting to go to the funeral until I was told that we were flying out that night to get there in time (the mind of a teenager, go figure!). I also remember not crying at the viewing or the funeral, I was there but damn if I was going to show anyone I had any feelings of love or loss. Indeed much was lost there, not just his life.
Sadly, my stepdad and I never really connected as a father and son, so the void just sat there forever. I hardly ever thought about my father after he died; again, I was taught not to go there and managed to suppress the thoughts of him, his family or anything having to do with him--that is until I became a father...suddenly thoughts of him and what he was or would be like surfaced back into my head & as I held my babies I finally mourned him. I wanted to know him, remember him, think of him. I wondered what he would be like as a grandpa, how he would be playing with my kids, what kind of advice he would give me growing up, choosing a career, making adult decisions. When I started asking questions from people who knew him (my mom & older sister) I was met with tons of resistance but it didn't stop me. About 5 years ago I traveled back to meet his family (2 uncles) after about 25 years of very intentional lack of contact by me. I didn't know what to expect, perhaps rejection, but instead I was welcomed with nothing but love. They told me they thought that they'd never see me again, they were happy to meet my family and I immediately melted in my uncles warm embraces. I spent time asking tons of questions, got to know him in the best way I could, through his siblings who were still alive. I took pictures of their pictures (they wouldn't share, LOL) and got to know him and where he came from.
Not all questions were answered but I was able to fill in a lot of gaps and questions from what I had been told by my mother and other people from whatever little I had known--finally lots of issues were put to rest. I was asked by a friend if I ever forgave my father...in retrospect I had nothing to forgive, again, he did whatever he could, the best way he knew how, perhaps I had to forgive myself for not reaching out to him and flatly rejecting him when I could have--he allowed me/taught me to write to my mom, don't know why I couldn't have written to him but hey I was learning to be perfect like Christ--oh the irony!! I have often wondered what would have the old man thought of learning that his son is a homo...I guess I'll never know but in my mind I'd like to think that he would have got the biggest kick out of it and likely would tell me to just be happy, whatever that meant. So today I honor that man; I remember very vague details of him, his laughter, the smell of him drinking/smoking, his getting his head shaved, but will cling to those memories because good or bad, that's all I remember about him.
Again, this has turned to be way, way long...
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