Gruff bark and no real bite, my father was always big on talk.
It was not uncommon for him to threaten to sell me to the gypsies for a three-legged pony. (It's fairly easy to see how that threat came to fruition. As a writer, I can only imagine the upside of gypsy life, and have more than once wished he’d shown a bit of follow-through to that end. I mean, my memoirs on the bestseller list by age twenty, not to mention my little sisters would have had a field day with that three-legged pony? Brilliance.)
One of my father's favorite (and thoroughly unconvincing) aces was, “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
Last night, I came home weary, still reeling. The universe had played too heavy a hand when I had nothing up my sleeve and no poker face. I’d spent all day avoiding what was bothering me and walked home in the snow, crying off my mascara. I couldn’t explain to anyone that it wasn’t something monumental. Just the feeling that my heart had been worn too thin, in a few too many spots.
At home, Chris had left a note, Never make apologies for who you are. I cried in the shower. Then I made tea, did the laundry and spent an hour on my yoga mat pretending to let the world go. The worn spots on my heart were starting to go numb.
I wandered back to my room, sitting down at the computer to do some work. My work email was full again of the usual requests and demands and... one email from my father. It had been a while since I heard from him. Post-divorce, and with unpredictable frequency, he now tends to disappear and reemerge. Disappear, reemerge.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Hi kiddo,
I can't afford to call, so I thought I'd take a trip to the library and write you. I can't ever read my own hand writing or I would send you an old-fashioned letter. I'm getting by and can't wait for winter to quit. It was different when I had a houseful and had to clear walks and things for the family. Now it just sucks. I guess I'm trying to say that I miss you and all my kids. I'd miss your Mom but that would be a waste of time. I don't check e-mail but every two weeks now, but write if you can.
Love,
Dad
And right then, the burden of empathy, the precarious balance of pity and reverence, made me feel as though all my stars had finally gone out. And though I have been weeping out of my own self-pity for what seems like days, and after all these years, my father finally delivered on his threats.
He gave me something to cry about.
Yep, my dad said the same. And yesterday I learned something about my parents via my brother who'd spent a week with the 'rents in Hawaii - that has given me something to cry about. Everytime I think about it, I get tears in my eyes. My brother, who is not prone to emotion, was also teary eyed when he told me.
Not an easy thing. I haven't decided if I'm going to blog about it yet.
If I do, it will definitely be from home. I doubt I'd make it through it without crying. Hard to explain at work. Even now, I'm having to stop and blow my nose and wipe away a few tears.
Been reading you for a while.
And today I can honestly say - I do understand what you are going through.
Posted by: GrumpyBunny at January 29, 2004 10:03 AMi'm sorry you've been going through this. believe me, i know all about it. just cry - cry your heart out because you need to - but don't forget to ask for help.
Posted by: mingaling at January 29, 2004 10:23 AMAwww hey there sweetheart. Mingaling is right, you should cry your little eyes out and don't feel like it's something you have to justify. We were born with that right. We were also born strong enough to get through these things with grace, and smart enough to learn and grow from them. Your entry reminded me of my father, he always would say that, but unlike yours he meant to follow through. It was no laughing matter. Now that my parents have been divorced for eons it is not that big of a deal. But I can definitley identify with the whole letter giving you something to cry about. Everytime my father and I speak, which is hardly ever (my choice) he puts this major guilt trip on me. By the time we get off the phone, I am a blubbering mess.
Posted by: Catarina at January 29, 2004 10:54 AMI know exactly what you're experiencing right now. My dad has been persona non grata for the last five years and he suddenly reappeared via a phone call where he said nearly the same thing. I am so sorry you're experiencing this. Mingaling is right, cry 'til you don't want to anymore. God knows I've cried a bunch lately.
Posted by: polichick at January 29, 2004 11:29 AMPassing on a gigantic hug that was given to me just yesterday...
Posted by: jenny at January 29, 2004 12:25 PMH,
Keep writing...you are getting better and better.
M
And they say that parents are the grown up. Best of wishes to you.
Posted by: sandi at January 29, 2004 02:02 PMI can't say I know how you feel, since I'm from a very large, very close extended family. But as far as I can tell, every crisis you've faced, you turned it right. I'm sure you'll do the same now.
Posted by: Gopi at January 29, 2004 02:16 PMsounds like my dad.
Posted by: lizzie at January 29, 2004 02:46 PMAwwwww.
How do I express-mail a large-size hug from NYC?
I'm so sorry you're having such a rough go. Although you talk about your sorrow and your tears as of late, your strength and courage to face each day are absolutely amazing. You're an amazing woman, a strong woman. Stay strong.
Posted by: DF at January 29, 2004 09:38 PMThat was a beautiful post. Best of luck in your quest
Jeremy
Posted by: Jeremy at February 2, 2004 03:21 PM