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Saturday, 28 March 2009
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Around 1992 my relationship with my dad started to crumble. He was good with kids. I think teenagers scared him. In 2000 my parents marriage started to fall apart before my eyes (I know it was a longer road, but that's when I first saw it). By 2003 it was all over.
A year ago today, the last bit of hope I had that this could be fixed, was lost. My dad was dead.
Someone asked me not long ago, to try to explain my hope and how his death really changed that. Did I really think that things could be better? Did I really think things could be restored? Was it even possible that he could be the father I wanted? Yes, there is grief and sadness with his death, but how did it relate to wishing for what never could be anyway?
These broken relationships were like fine china, smashed into pieces. Too small to be put back together, and even if they were, it would be an ugly mess. Nothing like before. But as long as I had all the pieces, I had hope. I worship an Almighty God. He can do anything, right?
But when he died, it was like he took his pieces of the china with him. NEVER became an ugly word. Because NEVER could my family be whole again. NEVER could I feel safe with my dad again. NEVER. You can't have HOPE when you have NEVER.
Yes, FAILURE was written over my relationship with my dad and I. Yes, DIVORCE was written over my family. And yes, they were written in indelible ink. But as long as he was here, I could HOPE that this was only written in dry erase and he would come back and wipe them away. But now I can't pretend any more.
So was it even HOPE at all? Was it just a self-delusion? Where do you find the line between accepting realty and having faith that all things are possible for those who trust in Him? Do I hurt because I lost HOPE? Or do I hurt because He said NO in the loudest, clearest voice possible?
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
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I've been neglecting Xanga very badly. This could mean that this won't be read. But let me throw something out there and see if anyone sees it.
How much does age matter in romantic relationships and eventually marriage? I mean in relation to the age of each other. I've always had a rather arbitrary thought in my head that I'd date someone up to 10 years older. I've never done that though. When I was 20 and thought a 30 yr old was hitting on me, it creeped me out. But what about now at 28? 38 looks old on paper, but when I relate the age to people I know, it doesn't feel so old. Thinking about dating a guy nearing 40 just reminds me how close I am to 30.
What if I started dating someone, and finally took him back home to FL, and people looked at him and said, "But he's old!"
Since I look younger then I am, I'm just imagining how I'd look with an older guy. He'd look like a cradle robber! LOL But as far as how an older man behaves, I'm all about that. Grown up, real job, some sense of who he is, maybe a house already. An older single guy has the downside of being all bachelorish and set in his ways. But he also knows how to manage all areas of his life. He can cook and clean and take care of himself. And will appreciate being taken care of instead of just expecting it since he just moved out of mom's place.
I don't know. Plus, further you get from college, the less people talk about age. Si I don't actually know how old some of the guys are that I know. So if things are all green light, then I find out he's a few years older then I thought, does it matter?
Sunday, 02 November 2008
Sunday, 28 September 2008
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Six months. Such a short time, yet I can hardly remember what it was like before.
Six months ago today, I learned my dad died. Sadly, I have to add a little more then a month before that for the last time I talked to him. I thanked him for the valentine's gift he had sent me.
He's death was very sudden. We knew his health wasn't the greatest and if he didn't start taking care of himself, he wouldn't have a long life. But I though we could lose him maybe in his early 60's. I also though he'd have multiple heart attacks and we'd have a period of taking care of him. But we lost him to his very first heart attack at the age of 52. No notice. No warning. No rushing to the hospital. No chance to go say goodbye.
There is so much to work through still. So many thoughts and emotions. We had such a fractured relationship. I didn't think I had any hope that our relationship could improve. But now that the door is shut, I've found that I still had a lot of hope left. And it hurts like mad to know that it can never be better. Our dysfunctional relationship is all that there can ever be.
I have no negative memories of my dad before I was 10. He was great with kids. But around there, I started to grow up. I didn't want to tickle fight with him and David. I was trying to "do" my hair and would duck when he tried to rumple it. And instead of understanding and helping me grow into a young lady, he took offense as though these things meant I didn't love him any more. We were never close after that.
My parents separated when I was 21 and he filed for divorce a year later. Right when I was trying to make another transition with my relationship with him, to be adult-to-adult, things were all messed up. Somehow we flip-flopped and I was the only one being an adult. I had to learn to put my foot down and not let him put that responsibility on me. But that also pushed us father apart.
And that is how it ended. The last time I saw him, we went out to eat and he was awful to the restaurant staff. He tipped so badly I left extra money under my plate. He gave me a ride back to my mom's where I was staying and then came in the house, which made my mom uncomfortable, therefore making me uncomfortable. I was just wishing away the moments until he left. And then he did. And I never saw him again.
The last month has been better. I took a couple vacation days around Labor Day and spent them in Poughkeepsie. I cried and prayed in my favorite places there and worked through some of the emotions. Since I got home, I hadn't cried until this past Friday. Over 3 weeks without tears. But on the way to work Friday, I found myself crying in the car again. The first month, this happened almost daily. And then it was every few days. It surprised me to find it happening again. And then I cried during worship this morning at church. Wanted to bawl, but held it back. And now of course, I've cried my eyes out writing this.
But I've hidden so long, I need to post this. I need to be a little more open. This road is going to be long. But it must be traveled.
Friday, 19 September 2008
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Seasons. They mark time so definitively. They take the intangible and make it something you can see and feel. The passing of time plays out right in front of you with the color changing from green to brown before falling to the ground and then coming back green once again. The temperature around you changing from humid and hot, to cool and breezy, and then then bitter cold and ice before finally melting again. And they can't be stopped or delayed. They are impossible to ignore.
As a Florida girl, seasons were more of an idea to me as opposed to to a cold hard fact of life. This year it's really hitting me in a different way. It was fun to see the seasons turn once in Poughkeepsie, but then I returned to season-less Florida. Now, I've experienced the whole cycle two years back to back and I'm starting in on a third rotation. In the past, time was marked in my life by years. But now, the time is marked by seasons. And seasons are so much shorter increments of time then years. It makes time feel faster. Instead of having goals of things I want to accomplish in a year, I have goals of things I want to accomplish or experience in each season.
In some ways it's great. The changes are exhilarating. The different wardrobes are fun. I feel like I'm learning key life lessons that God laid out for us to learn from the world around us. But in other ways, it's scary. It feels out of control. It feels limiting. Winter is just too long.
I'm dreading this winter. I've done it twice in a row and I just don't want to do it again. With my new job, I'm working until 6pm, so I know it will be pitch black when I get off work. For months. I hate driving in dark rush hour. At least this winter I have an office with a window. Maybe that will make it better.
But it's starting already. The 10 day weather forecast doesn't have any more days above 80. The night air is chilly. Dusk is coming much sooner. Dawn is coming later. I'm not scared of the dark. But I makes me feel lonely. Walking in the sunshine makes me feel independent and free. Walking in the desk makes me feel alone and forgotten.
Well, this blog has gotten a little moody, so I think I'll wrap it up.
