My Dad

Ok, well. This won't be a fun post. If you don't want honest, heartfelt unhappy reading, I suggest skipping today's post.

While on vacation in the Dells, I got a call the morning of August 3rd from my brother telling me that they found Dad. (Who is 'they' by the way?) "Found him? Found him where?" was my response. See, my Dad was 57 so it didn't even occur to me that my brother might not mean that he had been lost. I was a little shocked to see just how strongly this affected me. I have thought about my parents passing (sorry Mom) and the thought is never pleasant but I hadn't spoken to my Dad in over a year and the last I'd seen him was even much longer than that.

The past few years with him haven't been easy. He never asked about my kids. He never asked about me. He wasn't the type to write personal emails but he would forward stuff occasionally. He had never even asked anything about my son and I'm fairly certain that he's never even met Jack in person. Dad never even expressed any interest in doing so to me. Let me back up.

Growing up with my Dad was not easy. I always felt like I wasn't good enough for him and I always thought I was not only a burden but that I was unwanted. I can't even imagine how Mark felt because in comparison, he was a cake walk for me. He was awfully tough on Mark. But I always felt like I wasn't pretty enough or skinny enough or talented enough or smart enough. I didn't do the dishes right and I wasn't fast enough. I often felt like the only thing I was good for was to bring him beers or to run to the store for his cigarettes (admittedly this was loooooong ago). It usually felt like he was trying to avoid us because he'd come home from work and head right up to bed. After we'd be upstairs for the night is when he'd wake up and come downstairs. Often we'd be banished to our rooms if there were certain movies he wanted to watch. There are so many activities and events that we had that he never came to or didn't want to come to. I know he missed my fifth grade talent show, a couple of band concerts, and I know he missed Mark's confirmation. I also remember Mom coming to one of my graduation events where I received recognition for the activities I was in during high school but Dad didn't.

I won't talk about Dad's alcoholism. If you're reading this blog, you probably already know about this well enough that you don't need me detailing it. For those of you who weren't around during those years, I'll just tell you this. I thought it was normal for a dad to drink 6-10 forty ounce bottles of beer a night. I thought everyone had a full shelf of the fridge devoted to beer. It was weird to go to someone else's house and find out that they didn't have a keg cooler in the basement. I honestly did not even consider the notion that Dad was an alcoholic until just a few short years ago. Not long after that, he took to keeping a flask of whiskey on his person all the time. Last year, I told my dad not to contact me again until he got sober. I have been hurt so many times over the years and I couldn't keep doing it so I told him not to write, email, or call until he got the help that he so badly needed. He never did and I only heard from him once more. I never replied.

Here's the thing. My Dad could be horribly mean. He had a quick, sharp tongue and didn't mind throwing around insults. He once told me that it wasn't up to him to keep my daughter, his grand-daughter, from falling down the basement stairs. She was my responsibility, he said, not his. I can't tell you how often he told me that I had a big butt or big lips or a big nose. Then he'd turn around and wax poetic about a movie star that happened to walk across the TV screen. I can't tell you how often I heard the phrase "now she's got a nice set of lungs on her". My personal favorites were the times he'd tell me that my grades were too awful to get into college. I usually had A's or B's.

He could also be horribly self-centered and selfish. There are so many times that my Dad didn't get his way that he'd start to jump up and down in the living room like Yosemite Sam! Yes, the cartoon character. And no, it wasn't funny. Not in the slightest. You've never seen anything like a half drunk 45 year old man jumping up and down yelling (yes, yelling) about "not being able to watch TV in [his] own house". I won't even tell you about the tantrums he'd throw when Mom would tell him that we didn't have money for a new TV or a new [fill in the blank].

But my Dad could also be so fun and very affectionate. He'd get a little teary-eyed and he'd come up and demand to know if we knew that he loved us. When I was little, I remember him playing with us and tickling us. I remember his bear hugs and how he'd rub our shoulders while we were sitting eating something. I remember he briefly tried to teach us to play guitar and he also tried teaching us to play pinochle (couldn't figure it for anything). He liked to play chess and he'd sit for DAYS with the chess game on the TV. He had a good sense of humor, even if it wasn't clear to us what was funny. I remember how child-like he was the very first time he got a video camera. One of the first videos he took of me was when I was doing dishes (when on earth WASN'T I doing dishes???). Looking at Mom's pictures triggered memories that I just couldn't come up with on my own. I loved my Dad and it was obvious, in pictures, that he loved us too.

It breaks my heart that I couldn't see this while he was alive. It hurts like hell that the last thing I said was to get sober before calling again. My Dad died thinking that he was a good Dad and that Mom turned us against him. That is not true. He certainly wasn't the worst dad out there but there was most definitely room for improvement.

The worst thing about it all is that he was, at the core, a decent person. But the alcohol turned him into something that he was not naturally. For the longest time, he was rarely sober and that's the shame of it all. He used to be a very smart man. He used to be fun But the more he drank, the more of a stranger he became. I wish that he would have had his a-ha moment. He was so proud of his GED, which he should be. He was so proud to be a Mason, which he should be. The potential was there.

His cousin Karen said it best when she said to Mark and me that "Harvey had his own demons". I think that's entirely true. I'm not sure that he was a very happy person through his life. But I definitely hope that he's found happiness and peace. I hope that he has finally had that a-ha moment. I hope that he can now see how his grandkids are doing and I hope he found the interest in them that never appeared to be there before. And lastly, I hope that his demons have been finally banished and that he can rest in peace.

I love you Dad. I wish that we had been able to have the talk that we so badly needed to have so I could have told you that in person. I'm sorry if I truly was a disappointment but I tried hard. I didn't want to cut you out of my life but I felt that I had to for my own sake and for the sake of my immediate family. I will miss you and I hope you've finally found whatever it is that you were looking for. And above all, I'm very happy for you that you've finally been released from the bottle that held you prisoner for most of your life. Rest in peace. Know that I love you and I'm sorry.