A week ago on Sunday, June 3rd, my 88 year-old father took his last breath. I saw him a few days before, and his last words to me were: "Scott, I had a wonderful life." It fills me with comfort to know that he framed his life journey that way as he made his transition. I want to share with you the chapter in my book about the healing I had with my father. Anybody have some unfinished business with Dad that comes up around Father's Day? Please send them this. It will touch them.
Finding My Father
By Scott Grace
"As long as there is room in your heart for one enemy, your heart is not a safe place for a friend."
-Sufi saying
-Sufi saying
“Good work, Scott. Now it’s time to find your father.” When I
participated in the retreat with my mother, those were the last words the male
facilitator spoke to me. Find my father? What did he mean by that? My father
lived in Brooklyn- that was where to find him! At that time the gulf between my
Dad and I seemed insurmountable. My feeling of being rejected by him was
possibly my deepest wound, and I had covered it all up with a liberal coating
of pride. Find my father.
In his early adulthood my father
fought in World War II, survived that, went to medical school, survived that,
married my mother, prognosis uncertain, and became a great, caring doctor who
always went the extra mile with his patients. He was doing house calls for his
elderly patients until he retired at age 82!
My parents started a family in
Brooklyn, where they had both been born and raised. The first two children were
girls, and then I, the final one, plopped out. I can imagine my father’s
excitement about having a son, someone to guide from boyhood to manhood, to
continue the family name, someone to be proud of, perhaps even someone to
follow in his footsteps.
.
I didn’t always have issues with my
Dad. In fact as a boy I was crazy about him. I was the apple of his eye, and he
was my knight in shining armor. We played sports and games, and went fishing
together. As I approached age 14, however, it became abundantly clear that my
feet were hell bent on following another path, any path but his!
In school I was having behavioral
problems. I was feeling all kinds of difficult feelings about myself and my
life, feelings that I needed help sorting out and understanding. I expressed my
inner angst by becoming a class clown, defying any and all rules. To my credit,
I was very creative and original in my acts of rebellion. I also displayed
signs of brilliance in the subjects I was interested in. But when report card
time rolled around, I was filled with dread. Having my parents read those
things was a very traumatic experience for me. Whatever pain I was expressing
through my actions was driven deep inside of me. I got more upset each time my
parents’ disapproving and punitive magnifying glass was focused on my poor
grades and attention getting schemes. I responded by doing more things that
would bring me disapproval and punishment.
Eventually, I learned that I would
be treated less harshly if I punished myself, so my inner critic was born. My
parents saw me being hard on myself, and figured I was doing an adequate job.
Self-reproach is a great protection plan, and being skilled in self-criticism
was a large part of the shadow side of our family tradition.
My Dad had no idea how to deal with
me. My mother expressed her feelings of anger and disappointment, but my father
grew silent and distant, and acted like he didn’t care anymore. He just gave up
on me. That was even more painful to me than my mother’s voiced disapproval. I
hated him for that, and expressed my anger just as covertly, by also pretending
that I didn’t want anything to do with him. We lived under the same roof, but
we were a thousand miles away from each other.
I continued to have trouble with
school until the time I chose to drop out and pursue my interests. I became
totally focused on my spiritual growth, the quest for enlightenment, and God, a
fact that sent shivers through my father’s mind. My father, a proud and vocal
atheist, had given birth to a son who was thumbing his nose at scientific and
intellectual matters and doing the God thing. While I don’t believe my
spiritual searching was simply an expression of a power struggle with my
father, he sure took it that way. There were many hard feelings between us,
feelings that hardened into cement as time went by.
For much of my young adulthood, I
went about my business without much of a relationship with my dad. We had
stopped trying to change each other, but the walls of apathy remained, thick
and cold between us. We had both written each other off, pronouncing the
relationship deceased, incapable of improvement.
But that wasn’t the case.
Things began changing significantly
when I took the initiative and wrote him a heartfelt letter and he wrote one
back. Many more letters followed. Two human beings with a history of
separateness began to cross old, outdated borders and to get to know each
other. I would like to share our first exchange of letters:
Dear Dad,
I have been thinking a lot about you these days, and I
want you to know my thoughts. It seems to me that in my pain, confusion and my
struggle to define myself as someone separate from you, I rejected you
entirely, along with everything you stood for. Lately I’ve been seeing that in
my rebellion, I have set aside a part of myself that has not been allowed to
develop and that can make me a more whole person inside. I have come to regret
that rebellious side of my personality and I am setting out to make changes.
You tried to teach me, by your example, how to be a
disciplined, reliable provider for oneself and for a family. You showed me how
to live safely in the world, with a sense of security and structure. You
modeled success in ways that I did my best not to emulate. And I am feeling
very sorry about that. It was as if I turned away from your most powerful way
of showing me that you loved me: the way you lived your life.
Dad, I can sense that my work in the world, my
relationships with women and my sense of self-esteem are all affected by this
stance. I am working diligently in my life to develop within myself the
qualities you tried to pass one to me. Ouch! It’s hard for a sufferer of Peter
Pan Syndrome to grow into an adult. But my happiness does depend on it.
Dad, you are a part of me, and it’s time I stopped
resisting that and started accepting and working with the gifts you have given
me. You have passed on to me a legacy of character traits that are my missing
link in my development as a person.
I love you, Dad. I don’t want to wait until you are on
your deathbed, or until you are gone, to feel and to express that. You have
given me so much by the way you work, play and live. I want you to know, as
late as it may be, that I am beginning to receive and to learn from you and
your life. Growing up is a scary thing, but I’m getting there!
Your son,
Scott!
Sending the letter felt like a
huge, but necessary risk. How would he respond to such a bearing of my soul? I
waited for his reply, nervously opening up the mail each day. Each time the
phone rang, I imagined it was him. What would he say to me? What would I say to
him? Would my letter make a difference, or would I end up regretting that I
ever reached out? Ten days after I sent my letter, I got his response. I opened
it up and started crying after the first sentence, right there in the Postal
Annex.
Dear Scott,
Your letter
has touched me deeper than I can ever convey to you in words. I cried like a
baby during and after reading it! You have come a long way, farther than you
realize!
Scott,
don’t berate yourself for rejecting me and my values and my world. It was I who
rejected you when you didn’t conform to what I wanted for you. Rejection is
something you learned from me! I blame myself; don’t forget, I was supposedly
the adult and you were the child! I should have handled things wiser and more
maturely.
Scott, listen
to me very carefully. Let’s not dwell on the past, except if it can help us
understand the present and prevent us from making the same mistakes over again.
As I said before, you have come a long way and I have reacted to your changes
very positively! You say growing up is scary and difficult. Please remember, I
am still trying to grow up! Let’s help each other.
Scott, I
love you very much. I always have! I hope any scars are temporary and
reversible.
Always,
Dadio
I read the letter again and again.
Who was this wise, tender, approachable man? Was this my father? I felt waves of gratitude and
celebration as I pondered his letter. Nervously, I called him up. “Dad, I got
your letter.” “And I, yours, Scott.” We both fumbled for words, but couldn’t
find any. Finally, my father said, “Scott, I’m all choked up right now. I can’t
seem to talk.” “I feel the same, Dad.” Another clumsy, but heart -filled
silence. We both managed to say “I love you”, and then had to get off the
phone. The feelings were too rich for words, but a new beginning was
acknowledged.
I visited my family soon after
that. My time with my father was sweet and meaningful. I found myself genuinely
interested in him, his past, his dreams, his regrets. I asked him questions as
if I we were just starting out. We had some significant catching up to do.
We speak on the phone often these
days. It’s not always easy to talk to him. I question at times how much to
reveal, and what to talk about. Sometimes it flows, and sometimes it feels
awkward. We are profoundly different in our beliefs, our lifestyles and our
frames of reference. But we are two men relating to each other in the present,
not burdened by the past, expressing our caring and support. For my father and
I, both expertly trained in the self-defense of hiding our hearts to cover up
our hurt, our current relationship is somewhat of a miracle. We are both
finding out together that love is stronger than steel, and that the pain of the
past can be put behind us. For men in this culture to be more interested in
being close than in being right is indeed something to treasure!
·
“The holiest place on earth is where an ancient hatred
has become a present love.” --A
Course in Miracles
This is an excerpt from my book, Teach Me How to Love. It can be ordered at http://www.scottsongs.com, or on Amazon as a paperback or an ebook at: http://www.amazon.com/Teach-Me-How-Love-Touches/dp/061549210X
