I went to bed with a particularly uneasy feeling last night, and had no idea what it was about. Solar flares? Soulful angsty inner struggles? The fact that I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns from Season One?...
I did figure it out when I awoke around 5AM and happened to see that my phone was flashing with a new email message. Usually, I ignore these and go back to sleep because I know that if I engage in anything requiring mental awareness, I will usually find myself wide awake and unable to get back to that beautiful dreamland. But, something told me to read it. So, I did. It was an email from my stepsister, Sandy. We haven't seen each other since a brief 5 minute hello at her mother's funeral some years ago, though we were quite close when we were much younger. She was my hero and I literally thought she was the most amazing, beautiful and interesting creature on the earth.
She taught me everything I would ever need to know about sex when she took me to a drive-in to see Saturday Night Fever. I was 11 or 12, I think and she was 17 or 18. On the drive home, she told me never to have sex, ever. That it was disgusting and that all it consisted of was a boy putting his penis (pretty sure she said dick) inside a girl's vagina (pretty sure she said cooter...holy shit, that just made me laugh out loud to actually type THAT word...)...anyway - boy inserts penis into vagina and pees.
Pees?
Yes. Pees. I was horrified and assured her that I would NEVER have sex. She was satisfied and said, "good." It would only lead me to heartbreak. Based on her description, I figured it would lead me to gagging or smelling like urine and just being completely grossed out - but heartbreak? Hmmm.... To this day, I am proud to say that no boy has ever peed in me (or on me for that matter).... Ok. Enough of this topic.
Her email subject line caught my attention instantly, and made my stomach flip into my throat while my heart stopped for a second. It was my father's name. The email was quite unceremonious, completely devoid of emotion, love, compassion, or humanity. She was simply passing on information. It started with "I know you are probably upset with me, but I have had a lot going on here too." (No idea what she is talking about at this point as we have not been in touch all that much through the years). The next lines informed me that my father was in the ICU at a hospital in Asheville. She stated the floor number and the phone number and said that they needed a family member to call them to grant permission to intubate him as he has COPD.
Ok....first, he raised her, so why she doesn't consider herself as a family member is beyond me. (but I have no idea what growing up with him was like, nor what she went through, so I really am in no position to judge.) She grew up in the house with him and my stepmom, while I only got to visit for a couple of weeks each summer and see them for a day or two over Christmas. But she felt emailing this news to me and passing on the family responsibility to me was the appropriate thing to do even though she is in Asheville and I am in Abu Dhabi. (don't worry, I'm working through this onset of bitterness). Second, if they are waiting for permission to intubate him - he is most certainly dead by now as she was emailing me instead of calling, and as her email had been sent around 4 hours prior. So, I immediately call the number she gave me, which was not a working number...do a little internet search for the number of the hospital - get passed through about three gatekeepers to find the nurse that is assigned to my dad and one other patient in ICU unit. They've already intubated him (thank goodness)....and just wanted to be in touch with the next of kin in case they needed me. I know, I am sounding a bit more exasperated than usual here...this is the beginning of things I am learning that letting go is necessary. (D E E P B R E A T H H E R E). The healthy choice. The ONLY choice.
So, I let go of trying to invent a story about why my sister handled this in the manner she did. One thing I should have come to terms with by now, is that within my biological family unit - if you're looking for normalcy, compassion, warmth...you came to the wrong place, kid. Lesson remembered. (Check.) She has her reasons and I can't begin to know what she has been through or experienced. I know that she is a lovely person. A good and kind person. And a very loving person. And she is still that beautiful person that I thought was the cat's pajamas when I was a kid. She just has some scars and hurts that I can't even begin to understand. And maybe I should make a point of getting to Asheville sometime soon and spending time with her and finding out. And if not finding out, then just loving her and appreciating her.
So, back to the story about my dad...the nurse informs me that he had been there for 4 days already, was pretty combative and was having great difficulty breathing while also suffering from withdrawal from not having access to alcohol. She tried saying it as tactfully and kindly as she could. I could tell she was searching for clinical words. I assured her I understood and this was no surprise. She seemed relieved. Her name was June. She was lovely. June...a lovely name for a lovely person. She explained everything that had happened and would happen and assured me that for now at least, he was "stable". They weren't sure if he had suffered a heart attack or if he just had elevated cardiac enzymes due to the difficulty breathing and the withdrawals.
As you can imagine, there isn't a hell of a lot I can do from over here in the Middle East. And my dad and I haven't exactly been able to sustain a close bond since, well - ever...so I just talked to June a little bit and found her to be warm, compassionate, deeply caring, and well suited to her job. I am grateful that June is with my father. I am sure that he is as well. I asked her to pass on a message for me. She was happy to, and when we were hanging up, she assured me that she was going to go in and tell him right then. I have no doubt that she did exactly that. I hope he heard her. I hope she will remind him whenever she remembers.
My message? Please tell him that I love him. And that I forgive him.
Now, I am really of the opinion that the only one we need to forgive is ourselves in most situations as we are probably hardest on ourselves and deny that much needed self-forgiveness to our own detriment. In this case, I really do forgive him. I just let it go. Let go of all the wishes for a father I never grew up with. Let go of the dream of not being abandoned at age 3. Let go of blaming him for not living up to what the movie fathers did. For not saving me from my mother. (Which he no doubt was unable to do as he likely knew he had no salvation to offer as an alcoholic who lived his life admittedly angry at the world.) For not coming to my high school graduation. Or my college graduation. Or my wedding. Or my other wedding. Or my other, other wedding. He could be incredibly frank about it and actually approached the topic with a great deal of intelligence, humor and self reflection. He apologized a few times over the years, and with each apology - I tried to mow him down and press him with the responsibility of now being the daddy I had been missing all that time. I pushed too hard. I begged. I asked him for things he couldn't give. I expected things he couldn't deliver. Maybe didn't want to deliver. After all, he didn't know me any more than I knew him since I hadn't grown up with him, so letting me in would be taking a huge leap and chance that maybe he just didn't feel safe taking. Who could blame him? Especially when I was always pushing...giving him tips and how to's on being the father I needed. Pretty sure he appreciated THAT piece of advice.
The point is, he gave me what he could. He gave me what he was able to give. He gave me what he had. And it wasn't enough for me. I just wanted more. Insisted on it. And when he didn't give it. Punished him for it. Did what a daughter who desperately just wanted a loving father in her life did when left to her own devices and imagination since he was not there. What a bitch I was! Seriously. I didn't get it. Didn't understand and certainly didn't realize that my own behavior was serving to do nothing more than push him in the opposite direction. This particular modus operandi was to be something I took with me into grown up relationships of the romantic sort with men as well. Oh, you love me? Well, how MUCH do you love me? Do you love me more than other people you have loved? What are you willing to DO for me? How are you willing to PROVE it? Oh, you're not willing to do anything more.? You're not willing to sell your soul? Well, then I must not be good enough. I must not be loveable. I must not be enough. Not worthy. Then the subsequent self sabotage and of course, eventual end of the relationship. What a fucking cycle!! This likely gives a bit more insight into why I have thrice been to the altar. OUCH! This whole soul bearing, self realization, coming to terms with your own vast and deep shortcomings is not for the weak, so you know. GEEZ.
Disclaimer: By marriage number 3, I was well past this sort of nonsense and self battery and was several years into the ongoing evolution to the peace, love and namaste place I am in now. I'm still learning, mind you. In that particular case, I just didn't choose well. At all. But the marriage served to teach me even more by giving me a husband who actually required a level of self-sacrifice and soul-selling that I couldn't stomach without having a nervous breakdown - though I sure gave it one hell of a try and lost myself along the way. A real eye opener that. And a catalyst for permanent change. So, as ever - I am grateful for the experience.
So. I have let go. I am pretty sure the actual letting go occurred some time ago, but today on the phone with June, the compassionate nurse, it all made sense to me on levels that maybe I had not considered before. I think I have said the words "I forgive you" before to him, but maybe I didn't fully mean them. Not because I was holding back - but because I didn't understand what they meant. I understand now. In much the way I have recently come to REALLY understand what love is. I am understanding what forgiveness is. And letting go. And how to love myself. And forgive myself.
There are no conditions or strings attached to forgiveness, just as there are no conditions and strings attached to love. You just DO it. You choose it. You forgive, because not to forgive doesn't serve you. You love, because there is nothing else in the world that does serve you. Because you are made of love and energy and realize that nothing else matters.
This is much of what yoga teaches us. Has taught me. Breathe. Let go. Be present. Forgive. Love. Radiate. Vibrate in the light and at a higher frequency because the understanding that whatever we believe and give energy to, comes back to us multi-fold. Be. Meditate. Seek to understand people. Love them. Even if you don't understand them. Grow. Keep growing. Love. Love some more. Make mistakes. Forgive myself when I do. Have courage. Walk into life without fear. Give just to give. Not to get. Not for reciprocity. Not for anything to be proven. Not to EARN anything. Not to gain anything. Gratitude. And more gratitude. Calm. Peace. Light. Beauty. Consideration. All of these things have always resonated within me. And have always been the place I came from. And am happy to be returning to. A little childhood-life-situation-conditioning was my obstacle to overcome. It was my personal microscope to view up close and painfully personally what I needed to do to bring about positive change in my life and the world around me. (if you're wondering what that was --- it was CHOICE.) Choosing to rise above, believe, forgive, and love.
It's all pretty fucking grand, when I really think about it. (I realize I may have overused the F word in this blog, my apologies. I am supposed to be working on this sunny Saturday afternoon and have notes and papers and lists and tasks strewn all about me, but the pull to write brought me here today.) I need to forgive myself that also. Ok, done. Forgiven. All will get done and all will be ok.
So, what is the takeaway here? The usual...life is too short...live in the present...focus on the moments, not the material....accept that nothing in life is permanent and appreciate FULLY whatever amazing gifts we receive from minute to minute...recognize what is real and what serves you and what doesn't.
If it makes your heart sing, makes your soul expand, makes the colors in your life brighter and vibrates with light, intensity, beauty and understanding...if it makes you better, encourages healthy growth, seems to lead you down paths you didn't know existed before or that you thought were closed to you...give it your love and your attention. Feed it. Water it. Love it. "It" can be another person, a Shaman, a passion, an idea, an inspiration, a discovery, a calling, a dream, a goal...whatever. When you find IT, love it. If "it" loves you back. Golden! If it doesn't. Love it anyway, and then let it go.
I have discovered that the love that you give freely and without negotiation will be given back to you. So love. And let go. And be grateful. I am.
I've also discovered that the conventional ways of doing things...living, loving, being, walking my path - is not for me. Maybe I can even claim a little kinship with Kate Hepburn on that one.
Walk YOUR path. Live YOUR truth. Let other people decide what their path and their truth is. It isn't your place or my place to decide for them.
Namaste ya'll and if you hung in here this long...thanks ever so!
