I have my really groggy head going on this morning. This usually at least in part clears up after a nap. Vi is just bursting with spring time energy. She just loves her flower gardens and is busy planting seeds indoors. We still have about 2 feet of snow so it has to be indoors. Growing from seeds indoors it give the plants a head start on the season. The big window in our living room faces south and has “the best” sun. Soon the floor in there will undoubtedly be covered with flats and various pots. As the little plants grow and the weather improves will begin the task of hauling them all out on to the front step to harden them and them hauling them all back every evening.
Vi is just so full of energy, she has decided to repaint the second spare bedroom. We will be having some very special company this weekend and she want to make it nice. Her brother Henri is coming over to help with a lot of the painting and the 2 of them will do an admirable job. Every good job needs a supervisor and I am going to have to be in top form to fill that role.
Yesterday was March 17th. St Patrick’s Day. I am part Irish and I get to reflect on my proud heritage. Didn’t do any celebrating or at least none that included alcohol. Yesterday, no matter how I tried to avoid it and I did try, became a day of remembering March 17, 1985.
My father passed over on that day. It is hard to believe it is 22 years. This year the thoughts of 22 years ago have bothered me more than most years. In some ways it was my actions, or in-actions and feelings on that day and prior to that day that prompted me to start this journal. Possibly atonement for myself and to help others avoid the mistakes I made and sadly didn’t even realize I had made, until 10/12 years later.
When my father passed, did I feel any sorrow? Now, I am ashamed to admit it but at the time, I only felt relief. I have been trying to find a way to explain the depth of my feelings in some way with out bad mouthing him. I don’t think it is possible to understand my feelings at that time with out explaining a little of the circumstances at the time. Only by understanding where I was can I explain how far I have come or how my feelings have changed.
My father sadly lost himself in a world of alcohol and subsequent depression. He was in a downward spiral in life. Some how I lost sight of my father and instead began to see only an harassing drunk. Someone, I saw as seemingly trying to do everything he could to make our lives miserable. Unless you are in that situation you can never really appreciate the depth of the feelings. The words tough love were never thought of but I suppose that was a form of what I tried. No visits, no accepting phone calls when he was drunk. After the first few phone calls that I refused, he got a message to me. The next time I refused to talk to him, he would phone my boss at the Bank to tell him just what an Ass, I was. He did.
It was after years of this that I felt nothing but a sense of relief when he passed. My last conversation with him was very early in the morning of the day before he passed. Our last conversation ended with me hanging up on him.
It is only years later that I realize, I was not separating the deeds from the doer. My anger at the deeds done to me began to be directed at the doer. This is hard to explain but I can now see there is a definite difference. I was a banker for many years so I will try to use a banking issue as a comparison. You go to the bank and apply for a loan and for what ever reason you are declined. You are angry, but who should you be angry at. The Banker, a person just trying to do their job and must follow certain guides and rules. Or, if there is anger would it be more appropriate to be directed at the fact the loan was declined. There is a difference. Separate the deed from the doer of the deed.
In my situation the “deeds” carried on over many years and I became lost in the anger. So lost in the anger I lost sight of the man my father was. When sober a great guy to be around. Would my anger have been more appropriately been directed at the booze and how it affected him and created his dependency on it? What could I have done differently, I don’t know. He refused help or to even admit his drinking was a problem.
I hear stories of people that haven’t spoken in years over some silly little squabble. I just think, huh, so sad, so silly. Separate the deed from the doer and get over it before it is to late.