At 2:00p.m. I stood alone in front of an ironing board and wrinkled jeans prepareing to venture out into a beautiful spring day. My phone rang. The caller id announced my brother. This was odd because he was at work. My brother never diverted his attention from his job.
"Hello" I spoke first.
"Dad had a stroke. He's in the hospital" He said.
He filled me in on what he knew. We agreed to discuss travel plans to visit dad later when he got off. We said goodbye and his voice was gone. He returned to my memory. All though I was alone before my brother called the alonenessss now felt diffrent. It was not the mass of it but rather the texture.
My dad and I are not close although we are not estranged. I am not sure if I have seen my dad a hundred times total since he and my mom divorced some 40 plus years ago. I have had a relationship with him in the absence of a relationship. Though we were not close I must say I feel as if he loves me. I know I love him.
1/2 + 1/2 <>The notion that my dad and I had a relationship in abstentia is quite natural I think. I feel fortunate that he was able to put in enough cameo appearances to give my mental father some depth. My mother was also kind in her recollection of his attributes. She rarely proped up his great flaws before me. Thanks mom.
My mental father was constructed from bits of my dad and my developmental needs. He was constantly changing. He was a friend and a foil. Someone to admire and abhor. He was to be sought after or ignore. He was a God or he was an ant. He was what I needed when I needed I guess. The father that lives in my head is useful but he is only the umbra of my dad.
Now on this perfect spring day my dad, my flesh and blood, 85 year old dad, is coming closer to his mortality and my father within tells me that I am also.
"Hello" I spoke first.
"Dad had a stroke. He's in the hospital" He said.
He filled me in on what he knew. We agreed to discuss travel plans to visit dad later when he got off. We said goodbye and his voice was gone. He returned to my memory. All though I was alone before my brother called the alonenessss now felt diffrent. It was not the mass of it but rather the texture.
My dad and I are not close although we are not estranged. I am not sure if I have seen my dad a hundred times total since he and my mom divorced some 40 plus years ago. I have had a relationship with him in the absence of a relationship. Though we were not close I must say I feel as if he loves me. I know I love him.
1/2 + 1/2 <>The notion that my dad and I had a relationship in abstentia is quite natural I think. I feel fortunate that he was able to put in enough cameo appearances to give my mental father some depth. My mother was also kind in her recollection of his attributes. She rarely proped up his great flaws before me. Thanks mom.
My mental father was constructed from bits of my dad and my developmental needs. He was constantly changing. He was a friend and a foil. Someone to admire and abhor. He was to be sought after or ignore. He was a God or he was an ant. He was what I needed when I needed I guess. The father that lives in my head is useful but he is only the umbra of my dad.
Now on this perfect spring day my dad, my flesh and blood, 85 year old dad, is coming closer to his mortality and my father within tells me that I am also.
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So even though your mental father is only the umbra of your dad.. he's almost immortal.. he only dies when you do.
ReplyDeleteThe shadow fades when the thing with which the light is thrown against is no more.
ReplyDelete