Happy Father's Day to my father.
Jun 19 '09
The Bottom Line My father will be dead 15 years this Fall, I would just like to wish him a very unorthodox Happy Father's Day this year.
My father died in the autumn of 1994 after my 24th birthday from myocardiopathy. He actually almost died about three years earlier from the same thing, but somehow the doctors were able to save him. After that, he always joked with me that he was on borrowed time, and it pretty much turned out to be true. During those three years, my father had mellowed very much and it was usually a joy to be around him. However, growing up with this man was a different story.
He was married to my mother for approximately 18 years before they were divorced. When I was a child, I learned first hand how painful, abusive and ugly a divorce can be when it was dragged out for so many years. I remember that whenever my father was home with his family that these are the times when he was angry and abusive, physically and mentally, to my mother, my two brothers and sister, and me.
When I was a teenager, he would tell me (sometimes in front of my mother) about his girlfirends and how he knew that when I got married, I would be the son with the wandering libido to follow in his footsteps. I told him then that I hated that he made my mother cry and the family miserable, but he said that my fate is unavoidable because it's in the genes. My father worked a lot of hours for the NYC MTA, and when he was there, life wasn't as horrible. Well, I can't say that every day with him was a nightmare, there must have been some good times when we all pretended that life was good. I remember that we went on trips together sometimes, we all swam in the pool in the backyard and had big parties with my extended family too.
However, the final year that led up to my parents divorce in 1986 was the worst. My father made sure that everyone was miserable almost every day during that year. There had to be embarrassing interventions from other family members coming over and try to calm things down, and dark nights going to bed stressed out and worried. Then, they finally sold the house, and my mother and father went their separate ways and I was finally free of my father. Despite this, I was legally obligated to visit my father on weekends, (I was still only 16 years old), I hardly went for that first year though.
Then when my dad first got sick and was forcefully retired from work, he changed for the better. He also bought a new home and moved in with his girlfriend. After another year, I guess my numbing frosty heart had finally warmed to the idea of seeing him more regularly. At this time, he really tried to make things good, he would call me on the phone, and he would tell me that he wanted to see me more...finally. My father never told me that he wanted me around, his brain was too preoccupied with something (or someone) else he wasn't doing outside his family.
Actually, the three years leading up to his death were the best years I spent with my father. Yet, all of these good times and warm feelings did not prepare me to be the father I should be when it finally happened to me seven years later after he had died. It was the bad times that molded me into the father that I am and aspire to be for my son. Whenever my father made me cry or feel pain, or when I would witness him causing pain to someone else, each and everytime I vowed that I would be the opposite. As far back as I can remember, I've always known that if I did the oppopiste of the things my father had done, it would bring the opposite feelings of the people around him. My aspiration was to be the complete opposite of my father. And I tell you what, so far so good.
My wife would probably tell you that some of my parenting skills make her cringe, but she seems to always be there waiting to correct me, God bless her. My wife has it easy though. Her guide to mothering is to be a perfect mimic of how her mother was. Unfortunately, I didn't have that role model in my life, most of the things that make up me are the things that I had to learn on my own. No one taught me how to love, no one taught me about God, no one taught me how to be politically aware or self aware, and no one taught me how to enjoy every minute spent with my family. Only with the help of God, have I come to be the father that I am. I'm still trying to progress, as there are about a million more things I need to improve on. I know I'll never get there, but I do know that my family loves spending time with one another, and we embrace the important things together... so far.
So in a weird twisting and turning way, I owe a lot to my father. I am the man I would hope that he would aspire to be now instead of the father he had growing up, who was quite similar to himself. Having said all this, I still do have a couple of happy thoughts of my dad, and I can see some of the things that I did inherit from him in me. I sing around the house as he did, I believe I'm much smarter than I actually am, and I laugh hysterically at my own jokes in the same way he did.
I just wish I could bid him a Happy Father's Day this year, 15 years after he's gone. I wouldn't be who I am without him in my life.
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Member: Michael Scapp
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