Dad

What I tell you now may be self-indulgent but it is not self-loathing.  It is about not just how great Dad is, but how good he is. My father is the kindest person I have ever encountered.

When I was in my early 20s I broke my father's heart.  I cannot say for sure that I did not set out to hurt him with the life choices I very consciously made; but I do know that as deep and lasting as that hurt was, as I slowly and finally emerged from that dark place within myself - a long process, even now, I am still working everyday to complete - Dad waited, patiently, for me.  Even early on when Mom passed, and I was so selfishly consumed with my own sense of grief, Dad held me close, though I did not deserve it.  Especially then. 

I was in fact so arrogant and lost within myself that even as he was being so kind as to have me play a recording of some music that was conceived about Mom, I was not satisfied with that, and horribly – selfishly - demanded even more from him.  And so he allowed me to sit next to him during her funeral and talk him through each detail as music played, that, for me, has always worked as a kind of soundtrack for her last moments.  It would be years before I could even recognize, much less begin to appreciate, the kindness he showed me.   But Dad, still, waited for me.

Imagine suffering the greatest blow you can conceive of - the loss of the love of your life – your soul-mate - only to be made to relive that loss, in stark detail, within days of that unbearably raw wound, at the hands of our own child.  A child who would not see the gift - just one in an endlessly long line of gifts - he was receiving.    Still, Dad waited for me.

 Sometimes I wonder if I was so lost within myself that fate was forced to step in to shake me back to life, but it wasn’t until Mom got sick that I finally responded.    I once told Dad of this theory and he quickly dismissed it, but I have every reason to believe that his denial was just another example of his kindness to me.  Yet one more in a string of similar kindnesses from a father who somehow saw past his son’s fear.  His son’s guilt. 

And so Dad waited.  And over time my relationship with him changed.   And we grew close.  He would attribute it to Mom’s influence, but it was him.  His kindness.  His willingness to wait.

There is a lot he does not understand about me. But for whatever about me he can or cannot understand, if only for the sake of my own soul-mate and our children, he waited for me.

In a very real way Dad’s absence has created a hole in my life’s musical line.  A space that no note can fill; but I have learned that the notes alone are not so special.  It’s the space between them that gives them true life – true resonance. 

While his note may have been released, to once again be tied to Mom’s, and their first child, it will never stop resonating.  Through me.  Through my brothers.  Through our own children.  Our families.  Our friends.  If we listen deeply, they will forever resonate.

Dad is stubborn but not arrogant.  Dad is proud but not prideful.  He lives his life through his family.  Even to the point of driving everyone around him a good bit nuts.  I've never known him to demand credit for anything.  Rather, he wants to brag about his children and grandchildren and demand they get credit.  Many times this is endearing, but others it can be, in truth, infuriating.  

I have always struggled with my place in my family.   This speaks entirely about me and not my brothers, though over the years it has been easier for me to project it on to them rather than honestly confront it.  But the day I married Michele Dad once again proved just how kind he was to me.  Sitting together in his hotel room in Arizona that evening after a family dinner, just the two of us, as the June temperature fell to a soothing 105 degrees or so, I spoke frankly with Dad about this.  As I finished my all too typical rambling comments he turned to me, hugged me and simply said, “Richard, you know it’s ok just to be you.” And that is his way.

 It is his way of reinforcing the one thing that I have learned means more in the end than anything else.  Even now, as flawed as I still am, as many mistakes as I still make, as much as I still take those closest to me for granted, there is this one truth I learned from Dad: unconditional love is the only thing that matters.

Dad waited for me.  Even at the end he waited.  As I flew across the country one last time – he waited.  He could not speak when I was finally able to look into his eyes; and even then I did not fully appreciate it all, but I saw so much there.  He was calm.  He was present.  He was scared.  He was kind.  And he waited for me one last time so that I can forever say, without any hesitation or uncertainly, that he knows I love him, and I know he loves me.