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| An unbreakable bond, 1951, 1971 |
I know we had an extremely complex relationship, but we were both extremely complex people, weren't we? And even though you were angry and disappointed that I was not the son you hoped for, you did eventually come to embrace and love me in my childhood years, a bond of love that I never could forget, even through all the insanity that followed.
When I began to grow up, everything changed. I lost you for a very long time, and I mourned that loss every day of my life until, in your final illness, you once again allowed me to be your friend. But how much time we wasted in those middle years...
You hated defiance. And I, being your child, hated being told what I could, or could not, do. You had a volatile temper and your children paid a very heavy price for that. In the end, I forgave you, but I cannot blame your firstborn daughter for hating you as much as she still does. Your mistreatment of her was beyond the pale, beyond anything anyone can imagine. I also know that you suffered the very same 'chemical imbalance' that I do, and untreated manic-depression coupled with intense frustration with your marriage, your life, can easily explain some of your actions.
It also could not have been easy for you to witness your youngest daughter rebel and forge her own way, choosing not marriage and "settling down" but rather independence in the midst of the 'hippie revolution' and the disappearance of all that was familiar and safe to you.
But holding on to anger and hatred is not the way to go, not for me anyway. Those kinds of feelings are poisonous to one's own well-being. I cried my way through life, releasing the anger, the pain, the terrible sense of loss as I went along, until I literally had no tears left to cry.
Now, all that's left are the early memories...of your kindness, your love of animals, your eccentric sense of humor, your generosity. Memories of us walking hand-in-hand through the Bronx Zoo every Sunday because I loved animals as much as you did, helping me with my homework and special school projects, teaching me how to tell time when Mommy asked "What time is it?" and I answered "The big hand is on 2..." You immediately said "Kid! You don't know how to tell time yet? Well, let's fix that right now" and in one easy lesson, suddenly I knew all there was to know about time...except how to stop it from passing so quickly.
This October will be 25 years that you've been gone, Dad...25 years. How can that be, when it seems like only yesterday that we said good-bye?
How I wish you were here now to once again teach me the time...but this time, I only want to know how to set the clock back to an earlier, happier time and hold it there, for all eternity.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
With all my love,
Your 'kid'
