My parents spent their whole lives trying to escape each other, escape where they’re from and escape their circumstances. They used their jobs for this purpose. Traveling from one country to the next, never being able to settle down. Once they did settle down, all hell broke loose. They could not bear to be in one place together with no prospects ahead of them. Years of escapism and of issues un-dealt with exploded in their face.
They also could not leave each other. They did not have the courage and were too invested; the ‘time’ they’d put in together was viewed as a literal investment and the thought of it amounting to nothing was unbearable – especially to my mother. There may have been love there too, but none they could own up to or even express. Expressing love was seen as a weakness, a point of exploitation between them.
And so, there was no love between them – visible to the naked eye. It was a power struggle from the very beginning; each battling their own demons and strategizing how to out-maneuver the other. The notion of love in the family was a distant dream – almost like a fairy tale; both seemed to view it with a decent measure of disdain. Love was used as a means for exploitation, each had to harden up even more to be able to survive the relationship.
The notion of love in family was a distant dream – almost like a fairy tale; both seemed to view it with a decent measure of disdain. Because it was used as a means for exploitation, each had to harden up even more to be able to survive the relationship.
By the time my father was reaching the end of his life, he was stripped of his physical ability to move about and in that was a great humbling and a breaking down of all his defenses and strategies. Everything he had spent his life gathering and procuring meant nothing and all he wanted at this point was love – a tender heart. But seldom could he find one.
It was too late; too much of a mess. My mother could not see the visible tenderness that was radiating through my father’s eyes. In his fragile state, his heart was broken and a stark sense of regret and disbelief colored his days. Most of which he could not express as he was heavily conditioned to keep it all in – “be a man”.
He was the head of a very big family; children from two wives with generations between them. His first wife died young, he later married my mother and would struggle all his life to reconcile his old family with his new family.
He was very ambitious, very capable – he wanted to evolve as a human being even if it expressed it self superficially by “climbing the social ladder”or gaining prestige. After all, it was a matter of survival – the only way to feel safe and to ensure a sheltered life according to the cultural paradigm.
His old family was very possessive of him. His children and grandchildren could not bear him being another’s and they rejected at their core the fact that his new family was a reality. And so they always kept him in check. To the point where he also became wary and convinced himself that his new family was not really his “real” family. Not to be included, not to be accepted in any real sense but only superficially.
This all became painfully obvious the first time he was sent to the hospital after a brain hemorrhage. One would expect that family would come together under such dire circumstances, but the opposite was true. The very real poisonous rift that was fed throughout his lifetime between old and new became ever so clear.
One would expect that family would come together under such dire circumstances, but the opposite was true. The very real poisonous rift that was fed throughout his lifetime between old and new became ever so clear.
A sudden shift in attitude where the bare bones reality of the relationships became exposed. In many ways, this is the gift of very sudden circumstances – although it may not feel like it. The power dynamic changed and all of a sudden the superficial inclusion of the new family went out the window. The reality of “us and them” imposed itself.
The sad truth is that none of this could be reconciled by the time he was bed-ridden and just wishing for some real company. They say, ‘you reap what you sow’ – this was very much the truth. Much of his life was spent sowing this very poisonous rift whether through his silence, his ambivalence or even indulgence of a very sinister rejection of his own ability to move on. This division between old and new became his very own nightmare which came back to haunt him.
My heart broke for my father because I loved him dearly. Underneath this facade and unnecessary rift was a very sweet and genuine young boy. I came to know this boy more and more toward the end of his life. This boy needed love. May it be so that you know that you are deeply loved father. May the precious moments we shared and the connection of love between us last for life eternal. May I come to see you not just as a father but as the gentle soul that you are deep down; the life-loving, sweet and tender truth of who you are.
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