My assignment is to write about my dad, my relationship with my dad, my memories of my dad, and how that all might affect my life now. Big assignment, and I've been putting it off all week.
I have the most loving memories of my dad as a child. Early memories were when we had to leave the house so my mom could teach a class. He took me to McDonalds and then we would eat in the car and look up at the stars. He would should me all of the different constellations and he would point out the different planets. Venus was my favorite, apparently, because often when we returned home I told moms class that my dad had take me out to see "penis". After eating and looking a the stars we would go swimming.
My dad always very rational conversations with me. He taught me how to negotiate, a skill which he came to regret because I was so good at using it with him and my mom to get a better deal than what they offered.
My dad was an Army Officer, which meant we moved often, I think it was 12 times by the time I turned 12. I reflect back on how difficult that must have been on my mom, with three little ones starting over in new communities again and again. I recall thinking that moving was kind of fun. Empty houses to run around in, new friends to meet, there was always something new and exciting everywhere we lived. I can only believe that my mom was a superhero because I have no memories of boxes in our house, ever. We've move and everything would be put away by the time we arriv
ed at the new house. It was normal.
My dad is a highly functional alcoholic. He achieved great things in his career and was a great father. One year on father's day I wrote that he was the best dad because he didn't travel a lot (like one friends dad), and he never yelled (like another friend's dad did). In my view he was perfect.
I don't have any specific memories of he and my mom, but I have a sense that they were loving and caring towards
each other. I do remember seeing them sneak little kisses, and my dad had a bunch of pictures of my mom when she was younger, beautiful pictures of her at the beach, in miniskirts, and long hair. I never doubted that my dad loved and adored my mom. and I know that my dad will always be my mom's first and only love.
They were a strange pair and I always wondered how they ended up together. My mom was very responsible. She was taking some summer classes, maybe at a Junior College, and walking to school everyday. She could not afford a car and was cleaning bathrooms to afford tuition. My dad has some family support and a car. They story as they tell it is that my dad saw my mom walking up the big hill to class and offered her a ride. Turned out they lived in the same apartment complex, fell in love, and when the Vietnam war ended (meaning that my dad would not get drafted), they married. The
church they married at is just across town from where we live. It is where my grandfather's memorial service was held. It sounded like a simple wedding. My mom sewed her own wedding dress, and they honeymooned right here in the town where my dad grew up.
Back to my relationship with my dad.
My dad had always been there for me. Always available to talk. Always there when I needed him. When he has his heart attack and bypass surgery I didn't leave his side for a week at the hospital, sleeping at the foot of his bed. He was there for me when I needed him and there no where else I would be. (It was the first week of the final quarter of college and I was crashing half of my requeired 24 units. ). When My dad got to come home, the rules had all changed. Whereas he used to be able to chain smoke in house, he was no longer allowed to smoke inside. And whereas there were no restrictions on his alcohol use, it was now constantly questioned and challenged. The Doctors has told us that they could fix his heart, but unless he changed his life habits it would only last a decade. My dad retreated to the unattached den, that had been his office, and spent more and more time there, where no one would bother him about drinking nor smoking.
For a long time I was angry at him for choosing these substances knowing that they would hurt him (and knowing that I would do anything to protect him). After some time, I had a revelation that I could either hate him for the choices he made, or love him and hate the choices. He was not his choices, they were different.
A few years after my Mr Fox and I got married, my parents
announced that they would be divorcing. It was shocking, but not necessarily a surprise given the previous 5 years, since my dad's heart attack. What I, or my mom and sisters, was not prepared for was that my dad had decided to move to across the country to Florida, Nor were we prepared for the possibility that he had another family and was reuniting with his possible adulterous partner in Florida. Theses things all remain unclear, mostly because, no one wants to ask the questions, and frankly, I don't want to know the answers.
Most of all, we were not prepared to lose our dad who had been such a source of strength and stability.
My grandpa had passed a year after Mr Fox and I married and I felt like none of this would have been happening if he were still alive.
For a few years, my sisters and I would fly out to florida to visit my dad. It was always a grand adventure, where we spend most of our time at the Crab Shack bar or on 'Rocky's' Boat, drinking until the florida bars shut down at 4am. We spend time on the beach, played in the waves, rode around on the boat and then spent the evening at the Crab Shack where where ate and drank. It was bitter sweet - to spend time with my dad, yet see that he wasn't doing anything productive and had essentially escaped my moms 'control' of his drinking.
One year we met the mistress. It was strange and she reminded me in some ways of my mom - Making sure that he took his heart medicine and nagging him about how much time he spent at the Crab Shack drinking. My sisters and I were not kind to her.
Another year, after the mistress had gotten upset with my dad because he had apparently started dating another woman from the bar, and asked her to move out, she set his car on fire and stuck the garden hose in the window of his house and turned it on high while he was gone for a weekend. From what we gathered from the phone calls, he returned to a flooded house. There was a period of time around then when I got phone calls from creditors who were looking for him. Those poor creditors got an ear full.
We quit visiting my dad after he didn't come to my sisters wedding. He claimed it was a financial issue, but even when we offered to pay, he didn't come. If I could have given her his walk down the aisle at my wedding I would have done so. I will love my dad forever but I will never forgive him for missing my sisters wedding. It wasn't fair, it wasn't her fault, and it was never anything we could have ever imagined as little girls envisioning our weddings.
He did come out here a few times - my mom flew him out for little Fox's First Birthday, which was really special.
He also flew out for a big family reunion last year. It will probably be the last time he sees my grandmother.
I actually quit calling him for a time. In fact I can't say that i call him often anymore. We talk a few times a year, when he calls, which is usually near my birthday or a holiday. We talk about politics, which is interesting because we are on polar opposite sides of the issues (but it is my work). We talk about family, the weather, our puppies, stuff like that. I love it when he calls me. I love hearing his voice. I wish he could call more often. I would call him more but he doesn't answer his phone, so its kind of a waste of time and expectation.
So, I'm sure that there is much more to say but this is not what's on my my mind write now and I need to start a new post. I'll share this with my therapist and be back for more soon enough.
