Dads and Birthdays

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Daddy… Happy Birthday to you. Trust me, the words on paper “sound” better than if I sing them.

As I get ready to embark on another chapter in my life, I take a look back at yours. I guess it’s the birthday that’s prompted this – or maybe it is just something that I need to do.

I don’t know a lot of details about your early life. You have never talked about it with me. What little I know I’ve picked up from other people and scrapbooks I’ve seen.

I know that you left home very early, lying about your age to join the Air Force to escape a physically abusive family situation. I know that your mother died long ago and that you never thought a great deal of your step-mother. I know that you made some sort of peace with your father at some point – because I never heard one negative thing from your mouth about Grandpa Izzie. You allowed me to be free to enjoy his love. For me, that was a wonderful gift.

I know that when you met my mother you were quite the handsome, intelligent young man-about-town. I read the newspaper clippings to get that information. I saw the pictures of you – so handsome and debonair – with Pete Seeger, Burl Ives and the other “radicals” of the time.

I don’t know what happened to change you from a rebel to a man devoted to the rules. Nevertheless, the man I know is the latter version.

Today you are frightened, acerbic, and angry at the world. But the tender part is just buried – it’s not dead. You care for the scraggly stray cat I gave you 3 years ago with more love and attention than some children receive. And when she slips out of the house for a few days of foray you are decimated by her “rejection” of you.

You love your grandson without question. He is a fine boy, growing into a fine man (so says his momma) and easy to love. Your love for your granddaughter is obvious as well, even though she does things that would try the patience of a saint. Let’s both keep our fingers crossed that this is just a “teenager thing”.

You taught middle school kids for years. Middle school – what a horrible age! Not kids, not adults. Poor little fishies caught in the middle. And you did it with an incredible sense of humor, understanding and discipline. Nearly every time we go somewhere one of your former students stops you to talk – and to thank you for the grounding you gave them. How incredible – and what a wonderful testament to you!

Through the years I have never doubted that you loved me. Sometimes your version of love felt more than a little toxic, but I never doubted that you gave me all the love that was within your power. You were always the authority figure in the family – the one that I was a little scared of… the one that everybody tiptoed around sometimes. I am just now coming to the realization that it wasn’t malice that motivated you those times. It was fear. Maybe I’m just realizing this because I am, for the first time, having some really big fears of my own. It’s hard not to operate out of a fear base when the fears loom so LARGE in your mind.

Years ago I moved away because of my husband’s job. You weren’t happy about it, but understood that I needed to go with my husband. I came back home and then left again. This time you were downright pissed. How dare I leave you? This time there was no husband, no valid reason for my leaving.

Except this – and I wish you could understand it – your version of love was killing me. Not physically, but emotionally and spiritually. I was your baby girl – your puppet on a string – and that role didn’t sit well with this 40+ divorced mother of 2 who had been running her own life for many years. I didn’t know what else to do – so I ran 500 miles away. The results, as you well know, have been mixed.

And so, as things come full circle, I head back “home” again. But this time your baby girl has grown a spine. It took me long enough, I’ll give you that, but it’s there – a full fledged spine. Things will not be the same as they were 3 years ago.

I don’t owe you my soul. I don’t owe you unquestioning obedience. And I’m not going to curtail my life based on your fears. I have my own to deal with and that’s all I can handle.

Some things remain the same, however. You are my father. I love you. I will do everything in my power to help you and make you happy. When you need me, I will be there. If your illness gets to the point that you need my help, you will have it. You have given me much and I will give you as much as is humanly possible. I want to enjoy you – and I hope you will enjoy me as well.

So, Dad, Happy Birthday. I hope you take the time to look back at the successes of your life and revel in them. And next month when I come down … I’ll let you take me out to dinner to celebrate! 😛 (C’mon – you didn’t think I could be dead serious for an entire entry, did you?)