After my father died early this past Wednesday morning, the 11th, I’ve been less than inclined to write about politics. I just haven’t felt the mood. But I decided early on that I wouldn’t purposely avoid blogging altogether. Writing can, as many of you already realize, yield a cleansing of the soul, a catharsis, an expurgation that soothes like the application of aloe on a burn. Like easing your head onto the cool side of the pillow.
For me, such as writing can be.
That first night of the 11th, I had a dream. I awakened with it in my head. Carole King was singing “So Far Away.” I remember that most distinctly.
I and my brothers are good during the day. We have been keeping ourselves together by being near to each other. We’ve had dinner, lunches, together. This in and of itself is a rare thing. We are not much of a social family. We were held at arms’ length as children by our parents. Hugs and kisses were non-existent. This isn’t a bleat; it’s just truth.
During my stint at home, growing up, Dad was mostly gone. I spent a good amount of time at my grandparents house in downtown Sacramento. I can still remember the address: 2526 27th Street. The phone number was GL-55483. Gladstone-55483. It was easy to remember for my mother; she lived there with my grandparents: Nelson Newton Goodenow and Stella Artois Goodenow (nee Meldrum).
I can still remember when my mother beat the air out of me, on three separate occasions.
I can only remember the specific events of one instance: I had lost a toy or a car. I was told to find it. I couldn’t find it. I can only recall having no breath and thinking I was dying. After the first round the next two were tolerable. I kept these examples to myself for years. My mother is gone. My father is gone. Who cares if I reveal them now? No one. My mother was not perfect. Maybe she was at the edge herself. To this day I dislike her for doing that to a child.
My father had the luxury of being predominantly gone. To WPAFB. To Washington, DC. To the Pentagon. To wherever.
When my mother died in 2002, I shed few tears. My two brothers spoke words at her service. I remained seated and said nothing. I can recall one of my mother’s admonitions: if you can’t say anything nice, say nothing. I had no good words to say about my mother.
So I said nothing at my mother’s service.
Maybe it was Good Cop, Bad Cop. My mom was Bad Cop. But my father ended up being final Bad Cop. I finally realized that my father was sorely manipulated continuously by my mother. He had to live with her. I and my brothers did not. So he acquiesced to her judgment. On any number of issues and topics. My father wrote me and my brother out of the will. He wrote us back in. It was all at the behest of my manipulative and plotting mother.
When she died, I didn’t much cry.
See the first photo above? That’s my cabin today, surrounded by Global Warming.
When my father passed — I didn’t expect it, and it hit me hugely.
I finally got to know my father for what he was: an easygoing man, a national servant, a smart man, a financial wizard.
I finally got to know him, uninfluenced by his overbearing and manipulative wife. Who smoked continuously. Who concealed her COPD. Who concealted her inhalers. Who concealed her condition from her very own husband. Who was rapid, quick to point out any flaws exhibited by myself, my brothers, my previous wife, my then-girlfriend (so sorry, Wendy), myself.
That is MY determination.
I finally realized where the manipulation lay. And it wasn’t pretty. Or expected.
This is my cabin today, as I exposed it. At least five feet of Global Warming.
This was taken, Saturday, from the interior of my house. The snow level exceeds my windows. 
I followed a link here from Avg American. My father died a little over 4 1/2 years ago. I know there is absolutely nothing that can be said to make the pain go away.
But I do know how you feel.
I’m deeply sorry for your loss.
BZ,
I also cannot make your pain go away. I am praying for you, & I do know that in a process of sheer grace, HE can give grace to guard your heart & mind & bring peace from it, just as a mother giving birth first has pain then peace when the baby comes. I’ve rambled enough. May the Lord bless & keep you & I appreciate you.
BZ, like anything else we learn from our parents, take what you have realized recently and make a better person of yourself with it, that is what it is for. You have even more global warming insulating your place than I do. We actually saw 40 degrees two days in a row this week. It must almost be summer!
Your cabin looks wonderfully peaceful – I hope you are discovering that peace in your time of sorrow and reflection. Cheers, steve
BZ,
Wow, what a writer you are. You should write a book or something. You are talented enough.
I hated to hear about your memories regarding your mom. What a drag, but it helps to get it out. It is amazing how things like that can effect our adult years and it is a good thing she had all boys because we wouldn’t want it passed down to antoher girl. At least it might have stopped there.
Will be praying for you and your family during this difficult time. I am glad you got to know your dad at last..
LOVED the global warming comments!
Your memories mimic my memories in so many ways, the letter/number combination phone number, Dad who was gone a lot and was stuck with mom (his wife).
Sombering thoughts BZ.
My prayers with the family during this transition.
Donna
mamawas
Krystal & Mamawas: thanks for stopping by and moreover, thanks for your comments. Please visit frequently. Sorry. I forgot my manners.
BZ
Playing catch up on the blogs. Sorry to hear about your father. Love the picture of your cabin. What a wonderful place to be able to come to.
BZ due to the condition of my arm and wrist it is still hard for me to type and in an earlier update at my blog I said I would not be doing blog rounds for at least another two to three weeks. I pay for each post I put up with pain that lasts hours on end.
I had no idea your father died. I am so sorry and for this I am making an exception for you because you have been always such a dear soul.
There are no words, but God bless you and comfort you through this time of grief and loss. You will never let go – you will just learn to move on with your Dad going right along with you.
I know from having lost a son, grandparents, an Uncle – and daily I look in the face of mortality knowing it could my Mom or Dad gone on the next time my phone rings. Though they are in okay health they are in their seventies. Life is not certain and none of know what tomorrow holds.
But you can know I will keep you in my prayers and I will pray God gives you his peace that no man or woman can give you. Draw your comfort from the Lord BZ – after all, it is only God that is constant.
God bless you and your family.
L
I can appreciate how you’re feeling. My dad crossed over May 27, 2007. I was right there with him as he went, actually, at that very moment, talking to him about allowing himself to go to the light to be with family who had gone before. I’m certain he heard me, though he couldn’t respond. But it was precisely then that he finally relaxed his labored breathing (he had had asthma) and moved on.
My own upbringing was quite unusual, actually. Until now I hadn’t known a lot of things from back then, but I’ve now figured stuff out and understand how and why things were weird, and have forgiven all, as I now know that what was… was for the best, actually, and couldn’t have been easy. I know my dad did what he felt best for everyone. And with this forgiveness is being brought all kinds of awesome things I never dreamed possible… it seems surreal, but it’s real. Long story… But it’s my own. Everyone has their own as well.
Remember, forgiveness is very important and very liberating. Trust me; I know. It works; I had carried bad feelings and grudges for so long, but no longer, and, believe me, it’s a burden lifted. No matter what, it’s the right thing to do. Because none of us is perfect; we’re but mere mortals and make mistakes. Forgiveness will not hurt. It makes better.
Faith helps, too…
Ang: thank you for the kind words and thank you for visting and commenting; hope you come back for more visits!
Layla: thanks, and I appreciate the time and effort it took to comment. Your new blog looks very nice!
CS: I am very sorry to hear about your father. I wish I could have been there for my father as you were for yours. Forgiveness is a very important aspect. Perhaps I’m still holding on a little too long. I’d like to change; I hope I can in time. I myself am certainly mortal and filled with faults and defects.
BZ
Mr. Z – I know whereof you speak, save that my father, reserved and somewhat taciturn, died first, leaving me to deal with my mother, who sounds somewhat like yours, to say the least. Luckily or unluckily, I not only figured out I had to be my own person but my health also dashed dreams of living off of my income. Indeed, when I went out on my own I paid my mother back for her advance to help me get started – there would be no call of ‘debts owed’. As my health declined she ran from me, as she might feel some responsibility towards me… ahhh… and on to other lives to ruin did she go. And as they are my family, too, I extend my help to those who suffer and know its source, I can do no other to kith and kin.
The passing of my father was long, drawn out and the lack of brain activity indicated there was no man there, just his mortal shell. That, too, I had to step in to make sure everyone did the right thing… the youngest in the family to finally take that burden and remind everyone of their tasks. I hold no bitterness nor resentment, it had to be done and that is what I did… just as my father would have wanted.
None of us would know him that well, a good but distant and reserved man from Swedish extraction. It was an honor to ensure that his life was finally put to rest when none would do that task.
On the passing of your father you have gotten more a chance to know him than I did of mine, yet I think we share the respect he gave to both of us and honored them both as best we could. I know I did disappoint him a few times, and that made me a better person to seek not to do that again. He was glad of the final route I was going on his passing, and although I wound up far afield, it was in knowing I had taken control and direction to my own that let me do what was right when the time came. He had given me the basics of how to lead a good life and deal only with those things you must deal with so that they do get done.
I sorrow at your loss, Mr. Z and do hope that you can find the means to take with you what he was to you and what he wanted you to have from him. Do that and he will not die until your last breath is taken. Just as mine does not with me, as his memories are dear and his direction in life so good… even when shy, reserved and taciturn, the good in the man cannot be denied. If that is all people will know me for, then his work is still alive… and that I will never deny nor ever give up.
Still holding you in my prayers, BZ.
Reflections and writing are, indeed, cathartic, and it sounds to me like you needed to release.
And you do it so well that I am jealous of your ability. Not a good thing, being jealous, but I will come back and torment myself again and again and again…
So sorry
I knew your father for 7 years and what a learning experience. I do know he regretted not showing emotion towards his kids, but I also know he thought the world of you. He always told me that you were a lot like him stubborn, smart, and always did what you wanted. The one thing your father taught me was to say I forgive because sometimes it’s to late which he learned from his own experiences. I have kids myself and I’m very dedicated but I to get caught up in life and forget to say I’m proud of you or I love you.
You are a product of your father very smart, loving, fighter, provider, funny, and let’s not forget stubborn. Take Care of yourself and remember the memories you make today is the most important.
Love your Dad and your family Kathy