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The Narrow Path

Friday, September 25, 2009

My Dad - Part 2

My wife Julie read my blog last night and agreed with me that from a style standpoint, it was not one of my better efforts. Yet the content in the blog was the most personal and the time it took to write was the greatest in length. That being said, this is the very reason why I am writing and is the reason why we need to look more deeply into our own belief in God as the Father Almighty. This is what the message at Rooftop is on this week and why I am writing about it. I along with everyone else has to overcome to varying degrees the impact our own father's have had on our ability and desire to know God as our ultimate Father. So here goes part 2...

At age 17 during my senior year, my dad was diagnosed with this disease I had mentioned previously. At first the seriousness of it was shocking. In the months to follow, it was major component in me recommitting my life to Jesus. This was the day as an adult where I surrendered all of myself and my life to Him. In retrospect, it was the greatest day of my life surpassing even my wedding day and the births of my five wonderful children. For had I not had that day, I would not have my incredible wife and amazing children. In the months following my recommitment, my dad's condition stabilized and God began leading me to enlist in the Marine Corps. As the time for my departure to Boot Camp drew near the seminal moment in our relationship took place.

During a conversation about me going to Boot Camp my dad expressed his doubts in me being able to graduate. He cited different character and personality flaws along with personal quirks which he thought would be problems. This was hurtful to an 18 year old young man about to venture into the most dangerous endeavor of my life. If anything, I needed and wanted my family, and especially my father, to bless me and believe in me. My response was all too familiar as well and I began to criticize dad for being a failure for not supporting me and breathing life into me for my upcoming adventure. As I finished, my dad to my shock raised his hand and slapped me across the mouth. I was stunned and then filled with rage. My father, who normally could have stood down his 18 year old son in a physical confrontation was now weakened by the disease and I knew it. I also knew I was stronger as I had been training to go off to Boot Camp and believed I could finally best my dad should I need to. Subsequently, I told him with the most defiant sneer, "don't ever touch me again". Dad, not backing down from my challenge raised his hand to hit me again, but this time I was ready.

I blocked his hand with my own and shoved him against the back door. I put my hand around his neck and held my other hand cocked in a fist ready to hit back. Now he was stunned, and there I stayed, staring into his eyes but I choosing not to follow through. My older sister and future brother-in-law were in the house and came running in and separated us. In the hours and days that followed, as was my dad's normal response, he acted as if nothing had ever happened and never said a word about it. I on the other hand remember struggling with the unresolved anger for several days before putting it aside myself. That was the last personal interaction I had with my dad before leaving for Boot Camp a couple months later.

A couple months into Boot Camp I got a letter saying dad had gone into the hospital with a worsened condition. I told my Drill Instructor and was able to get a couple phone calls home (which is not normally allowed) to see how he was doing. He bounced back and after several days came home from the hospital. When I came home from Boot Camp after graduation he seemed fine and back to normal. I left again after 10 days at home for my next duty station and did not return home for 5 more months, the weekend of my 19th birthday. I was in between two duty stations, Boston and Pensacola and went home to see my high school buddies for the weekend.

Before flying back on Sunday, I had to run some errands Saturday afternoon and my dad, out of character, asked to come along with me. Puzzled, I said sure and we spent a couple hours in the car together. We talked about all sorts of surface stuff but didn't argue for which I was thankful. We didn't talk about anything meaningful either, but I guess being with me in peace for that afternoon was meaningful to him.

The next morning I got up to catch my flight back and I went in to say good-bye. Mornings were especially tough on my dad in his sickness as it took him a while to get going. I stuck my head into his room and waved goodbye. Instead of waving, he called me over, which again was something abnormal from him. As I came over to his side of the bed he struggled to sit up and then for the first time in my conscious memory, he said " I love you" and he kissed me on the cheek. I remember feeling weird and not knowing how to respond. I think I said "I love you" back and then went on my way. Three weeks later, in the middle of the night, I received the phone call from my mom telling me dad had died.

I still to this day wonder if he knew. Did he know he was going to die? Was the kiss and the "I love you" his one final olive branch to me his only son? Did he realize all the holes left and mistakes made with me over the years? Or was he just wanting to not let our last memorable encounter together be the fight in the kitchen a year earlier? Either way, that kiss and those words have helped me deal with his passing and my search for peace in my relationship with my father. Over the next few months I had nothing but time to think about the lost relationship with my dad. Those months honestly were the hardest months of my life since graduating high school.

Most people entering into adulthood with father issues have their father present or at least alive. If they choose, and if the father obliges, often there can be peace made and restoration brought to the relationship. Sometimes there isn't such peace and the relationship only gets worse. For me, my dad was gone. I have no doubt he was and is in heaven for his faith in and love for Jesus. But he was gone for my lifetime, and I was left to chase the ghost of my absent father. I had much childishness and immaturity yet to grow through and no help or direction in doing it...no earthly help that is...

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