Sunday, November 29, 2015

the last conversation

  This week is a difficult week for me.  You see it is the anniversary of the day my day passed away--Dec. 5th.

My dad and I had a rocky relationship...most of the time I craved his approval but I felt I didn't like the things he liked--and wasn't interested in the things he was--especially chores or fixing things around the house.  His length of focus in hanging in with hopelessly lengthy projects long exceeded my puny attempts at hanging in with him.  Mostly I wanted to be beyond his arm length in case he lost patience--which was far more of a concern.

Oh there were many issues and I could write about it from so many angles but they really won't change the story or where it intersects my own story.

My dad went in for an operation in June and all of my siblings went to see him...it was a serious operation.  I couldn't afford to go...I lost the opportunity to speak with him for the last time.

I did see my dad in November as all of my brothers and sisters gathered around him on a ventilator breathing machine to celebrate his and mom's anniversary.  He had been on the machine for months with many setbacks and infections and his lungs were just too weak from years of smoking.

I had him alone with everyone temporarily leaving the room.

These are the kind of moments that are made of courage--even if it doesn't end up with the result I want--I thought. If I don't speak up I'll be one of those men forever stuck by my own paralysis of action.

Dad, things didn't always go how I wanted, or how you wanted...some things have come out wrong...some actions came out wrong...but I want you to hear me that--I forgive you.

Forgiveness is a strange thing.  I didn't really feel it when I spoke the words to him, but I had to speak it while I had time.  Having believed this would release him from his mistakes in parenting me, or use of discipline that scared the life out of me and unplugged me emotionally as I attempted to build walls to keep me safe from everyone....something different happened.

Over time I realized forgiveness actually frees the forgiver much more than the forgiven. I guess had I read some books on forgiveness I could have come to this conclusion quicker...but our own stories always sear the lessons into our minds forever much more effectively.

I also realized that forgiveness is a decision that needs to be made daily.  You see, I could relapse into an unforgiving angry spirit--even after pledging my forgiveness--and many days I did.  It's not a perfect trail, it has many peaks and valleys.

I remember my dad once sharing that he was the baby of the family (many years younger than his 3 siblings) and I realized for the first time my dad was probably a "surprise" baby late in life. He had a father (my grandfather) who had been told by his dad (my great grandfather) "this farm isn't big enough for the two of us" and so he left South Denisville, NJ for the city of Philadelphia.  He never received his father's blessing as he embarked out on his journey of life and he had never passed one on to my father either.  No surprise that the story of generations of broken dads continued to my own story.

I realized something long ago--that I do believe he was doing the best he can do--given his situation and the tools available to him.  That doesn't make it ok--everything that happened...it really doesn't change any of the other characters but myself--it makes my heart feel more whole.

 When I believe that he did the best he could--it grants grace...and I'm the one who looks through a different lens.

The conversation wasn't perfect or even all that articulate...but it would be our final conversation--and in the absence of my father's voice I found I had a voice.  How the discovery of my own voice making noises--made me want to growl at the injustice...instead I granted the grace as best as I could.

Dad--with every year that you have been gone I long to have meaningful conversations with you...ones where we share our stories more. I want you to know that I'm sorry you never received what you needed or your dad's blessing--I know you desired it. I want you to know that I have one major thing I am proud of in my life---with this generation the story is being rewritten in the Taylor family.  I am passing on grace ---and creating a relationship with my son that would make you proud. I have given him words of encouragement and life.

The chains are broken with this generation and the story's ending is yet to be determined....but the trajectory has promise.

One day we will share new stories and you are free to whistle as many tunes as you want--it makes you happy.

My Dad shared a dream with me...he wasn't a man with grandiose aspirations...he told me he would feel happy and complete if he could own and run a small soft serve ice cream stand.  This probably sounds sacrilegious to some of you---I shared that with a friend this week--my belief is that he (dad) is in heaven and running that soft serve shop and talking with others welcoming them all into the heavenly courtyard-and believing that I can't help but smile that dad is now living out a dream...


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