I always miss my Dad. Especially around Father's Day, I think about him more than ever. I'm sad that he never met my sons, saw me dance, was around to be in my life to enjoy the fruits of his parental labors, nor lend support during the difficult times. It's poignant to me that I was the same age when he died as he was when I was born-- I was 23, he was 47. And I wasn't ready.
Who is ready for the death of a parent? But it was really my first experience of death, and to have it be my Dad was almost unbearable. My father was steady, or so it seemed to me. My Mom suffered from mental illness, certainly exacerbated by by the birth of four disabled children, but my Dad remained solid throughout, the axis of my universe. He had a funny sense of humor and when my Mom went away as she often did to "rest", he took care of us. He fed us crazy things like toasted peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and made it sound so delicious in the making, that we begged for it again and again. Savory and sticky. It still turns me on.
An electrical engineer, my father played the saxophone and was a basketball phenom in high school and college. I remember thinking he was such an interesting man. And the look on his face when he wailed-away on that saxophone, made me want to go wherever he went in those moments. He was an important counterpoint to the rest of it in my life. Fathers and their daughters. Our first real love relationship that sets us up for all the others to come. But he abandoned me without warning. Eight weeks and he was gone. Colon cancer.
I was always self-reliant. I didn't need my Dad to save me, but I needed to know he was there so he could if I needed him to. I've spent the rest of my life with a hunger for that kind of love. Time and again I chose men who walked away. For drugs, for something different. I guess I was a slow learner, but I finally found that sweet spot with a man; of unconditional love and support without intruding on my autonomy. The loss of my Dad at 23 made me fiercely independent. Especially with a mother who was more my child than I was hers. But this man I love now, gets me and seems to love me for who I am. After 8 years, I'm finally coming to trust that.
It's so interesting to me how the events of our lives determine the course we take. And the sooner we engage in self-discovery and really look at the why of our choices, the sooner we can get on with the business of living our best lives. I have the fundamental belief that we always get what we need, though many times it's painful and not at all what we want. I'm happy for all I've done without a back-up plan. Feeling our power as a result of rising from the ashes time and again leaves us with insights and empathy that connects us to the fullness of our humanity. And our potential.
I know there are many who have had difficult relationships with their parents. Some may even be estranged. And certainly all of us came to recognize our parents' flaws in order to differentiate and make our own way in the world. My Dad wasn't perfect. After he died I found out about an affair he was having with my aunt, my Mom's favorite sister. And he ultimately left my mother and married her best friend (woah!) after discovering she was having an affair of her own. Sordid life realities. But there's that abandonment again. A big hit after all they had been through together. For both of them. And two years later he was gone.
But none of us is perfect. And forgiveness is not a decision many of us come by naturally. It's really hard to forgive someone, unless you stand in their shoes. Certainly becoming a parent myself has helped me understand better the magnitude of the job, one for which we receive no training. But we do the best we can. God knows I've made mistakes with my sons and only hope they can forgive me when/if they become parents.
Years ago I attended a weekend workshop that was designed to jump start lives that had gotten lost somehow. I had just ended a dangerously destructive relationship and needed help moving forward. That was really the beginning of my life as an intentional seeker. One of the processes they offered the group was a guided visualization about our parents. Open-ended enough to fill-in the personal details, it took the participants through the day mom and dad found out they were pregnant with us, their wonder and joy at the little miracle who had come into their lives, and walked us through some of the happy childhood memories of being a family-- the love and the fun.
This visualization had a profound effect on me. I had never looked at myself through their eyes before. And though I could only project the way they felt, I knew I was forever changed for the better; the way it reflected back the pure, unadulterated impulse to create life and to love, and that I was the recipient of this human urge, the outcome of this miracle of nature. It felt primal and pure and ultimately comforting. I knew that whatever complexities entered into the mix of the relationship, at the foundation was the incomparable love of a parent for their child.
If you check back on Sunday, Father's Day, I will do my best to recreate that visualization so you too can return to the uncomplicated love and instinct that led to your existence. If you are lucky enough to still have your parent/s in your life, I hope you will strive for understanding and forgiveness. You will miss them when they are gone.
What I know for sure is that habits of mind live first in the body and must be interrupted through breathing and meditation. It's the only way to create space enough to allow for new insights and choices about how we perceive our lives and the people in it. If you are new to this and would like to delve further, you're welcome to read Umbrella Breathing about the mechanics of diaphragmatic breathing and Ready, Set... for a basic meditation exercise. In addition, I love the phone app Insight Timer (it's free) for both breathing and a variety of meditations/visualizations.
Whatever you do this week, find the time and motivation to Mind Your Body. And thanks so much for reading.
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