The last time I saw my father was in March 1991. In July 2016, after 25 years and many more questions, I finally saw him again.
Leading up to the day he was coming, I kept wondering what it would be like to see him after so long. Would we both cry? Would I be happy, or mad, or something I didn’t yet know? So it was fairly perplexing to discover that I’d react as if I had just seen him the previous week.
My older brothers, my husband, my oldest niece and I picked him up along with my youngest brother, whom I hadn’t yet met. The airport was busy with people and taxi drivers bustling about, which made the experience kind of surreal, as if experiencing it from outside of myself with ‘Café sounds’ playing as mood music in the background.
We all hugged, got in our cars and drove to my mom’s house. I was really curious to see what my parents’ first in-person interaction in 25 years would be like. There were no fireworks and no war-like explosions; just hugs and excited happy voices.
I pulled my husband to the side later that evening and explained how weird it was to not feel anything extreme. How could I not want to cry from seeing my father and my youngest brother? How could I not want to yell in frustration for having so many questions left unanswered? In the end, I theorized that because I already knew that I wouldn’t be getting any answers, I was mentally and emotionally prepared for this very special encounter.
Although we were around one another here and there for about two weeks, it was only toward the end of my stay that my father and I had ‘the’ conversation. We were at the beach, and he was by the water, standing alone. I walked over to take a food order from him, and he said: “Listen, I am really sorry for not being in your life, but all that is in the past, and I hope we can move forward with a new life. Okay?”
I could see it was a difficult sentiment for him to get out, as he could barely look at me as he spoke. It seemed that he wanted to let me know how bad he felt, but he wasn’t going to get into it, whatever his reasons were.
All I could do, given where we were, was say “okay”, smile, and take his food order. On my way back to the restaurant at the beach I couldn’t help but analyze my response. I was a bit incredulous at myself, but I also knew this wasn’t the place to have ‘the’ conversation with my dad.
The sum of the experience, for me, was to learn that life presents us with a myriad situations in which innumerable people are involved. Sometimes we find the strength to ask questions to find closure, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we ask the questions and we get answers, and other times we don’t. What do we do then, when there are no answers but the answer-bearers are alive?
We can come up with as many solutions for this as there are people, but I found that my lesson was to let it go and agree that it’s all in the past.
Finding closure for yourself can be difficult, but if you pretend that there is no other way (for instance, if you wanted to ask Michael Jackson how many times he rehearsed The Man in the Mirror, you couldn’t do so, and you’d have to be at peace with that), then I believe you can put your mind to accepting that you can move on, taking your brain and your heart with you and have closure regardless.
What are some of your experiences in which you wanted closure but couldn’t get it? What did you do about it? Does it affect your parenting in any way?
This is an original post to World Moms Network by Sophia of ThinkSayBe. Photo credit to the author.
ThinkSayBe
I am a mom amongst some other titles life has fortunately given me. I love photography & the reward of someone being really happy about a photo I took of her/him. I work, I study, I try to pay attention to life. I like writing. I don't understand many things...especially why humans treat each other & other living & inanimate things so vilely sometimes. I like to be an idealist, but when most fails, I do my best to not be a pessimist: Life itself is entirely too beautiful, amazing & inspiring to forget that it is!
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Your post is so timely for myself. I have had so many situations in life where there are no closures. I think, “cheerful-acceptance” (there, that cliche again!) is mighty helpful, but takes practice.
Thank you for writing that post. It is very poignant and I wish I could give you a real hug! 🙂 <3
One day, Purnima. We will all get together in real life!!
Jen 🙂
Huuuuuug!!! Lol ? Thank you, Purnima, for your cool, calm, and relentless encouragement of …me. We’ll hug (for real) soon ?
I agree with what Purnima said, and I’m glad that your dad at least apologised and seems to want to re-connect with you.
I forgave my father too many times to mention, and he betrayed my trust every. single. time! He NEVER accepted that he was to blame for anything. He had 5 children with 3 different women and didn’t support or maintain a relationship with any of us (he also didn’t make ANY child-support payments to any of our mothers). Even after he died, he managed to hurt us again by stating in his Will that NONE of his children were to inherit anything. Whatever he had went to his final companion (the only woman that he didn’t sire a child with).
That said, I know that I have closure because I am neither angry nor sad any more. In *know* that I did everything possible to be a good daughter, so I have no regrets. He’s the one who missed out on getting to know his grandchildren, but I know that my children are better off because of it!
Simona,
He set the example of what not to be! You have raised your children so differently and have been so present. You are a great mama! I’m grateful for him that you are here. The world needs you!
Jen 🙂
I’m really sorry to hear that, Simona. I think somewhere within himself your father knew he was missing out and had messed up. But instead of taking responsibility and making himself temporarily vulnerable, it sounds like he got stuck in the other ….reality (my mind just blanked. lol. But ‘reality’ works. Lol)? A reality in which he decided not to care. But unless he was a sociopath, he probably did care.
Letting go is the hardest. You’ve got through life and were forced to learn at an early age that you didn’t need him. To hear him say that he was sorry released you. You are stronger. I’m so proud of you!!!
Thanks, Jen. I’m definitely grateful for who I am. Always learning, working on accepting, and working on releasing ???
That was a great thing to do – letting go is not easy at all. But you are right Sophia some questions can’t be answered. We have the choice: accepting it and be free. Or living our life begging for answers that will never come.
It’s good that your dad could at least tell you this.