Dear Daddy:
It’s Father’s Day and I wanted to tell you I love you. I remember a lot of things about you, but most of all I remember feeling loved and protected. I don’t remember ever feeling unloved or unwanted.
I think being a father was different than you expected. You never really got the chance to be a father with Allan (*) and, although you did what you could for him, I’m sure it was very painful to know there was just nothing else you could do. I’m sure it was hard to send him to live somewhere else where they could provide the care he needed. He’s doing well and will probably out-live me.
With me, you had a full-time job. Being older (both you and mom) must have brought some challenges keeping up with a busy baby, toddler and young girl. You never really got to see me as a pre-teen or teenager, or through college or marriage or see your grandchildren.
My ‘fantasy’ involves you sitting with God in heaven and looking down on us all as we go about our days. I wonder if you’d be pleased or put-out with my naming my first-born son James and not Gordon. Mom and most of the Kirkwood’s were less-than-pleased, as they reminded me your name was Gordon and that was what everyone called you. I decided on James after you and your uncle – and to be honest, because I couldn’t saddle a child with the name “Gordon” in 1993. I hope you understand.
Blake has the middle name “Roper” because I have guilt about being a boy and not being able to carry on the Roper name. I don’t know if that bothered you or not, or if you even thought about it; but I carried that with me all throughout my growing up years and resolved that one of my children would carry the middle name of Roper so hopefully the name wouldn’t die out on my watch.
I think some days about how much you would have enjoyed doing things with them; teasing them (like you used to do to me), fishing with them (remember Jess’s Ranch?), or maybe even taking them on trips. That’s all pretty much fantasy too, as your health wasn’t great towards the end and to be honest, you would have been 90-plus by the time James was born.
I hope you would have loved my girls as well; even though, or maybe especially because of the fact that they weren’t mine to begin with. I have two beautiful grandchildren and two wonderful son-in-laws; things you never got to experience. And, sometimes I take it for granted, even though I shouldn’t.
I’m sure you would love my husband. He’s enough like you that you probably would have driven each other nuts, but gotten along well enough to smoke cigars, fish and play poker; and, of course, fought over who was better equipped to take care of me.
Daddy, I don’t always miss you, but you’re never far from my heart or my thoughts. I’m looking forward to the times when I can sit with you in heaven and talk about all the things we’ve missed together.
I love you.
(*) Allan is my father’s son; institutionalized in California with severe mental and physical challenges. He is about 11 years older than I.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Betrayal
I guess I’m over-sensitive about things. I personalize what, in truth, wasn’t my doing at all. I’m arrogant enough to believe if I’d done something different, or said the right thing, or change a certain something; things would be different.
I don’t understand deceit; lies, sometimes – about hair or clothing or saying that you liked the movie when you really thought it was just plain trash. But deceit? Going behind someone’s back or not telling someone the whole story or hiding all the facts – that goes beyond trying not to hurt someone’s feelings because of a haircut or a dress.
I am beginning to see the dark and ugly side of life on a much more regular basis now. Following the rules on just the bare other side of cheating. Failing to take responsibility for actions you could have controlled or changed but chose not to. Making other people the excuse for your reactions or placing the blame and guilt on them when it was your fault it happened at all.
I feel betrayed. Why? You refused to accept the blame and reflect on the changes that should have been made; placing the blame on me. All would have been forgiven if you had just, could have just said “I’m sorry, it was my fault and I understand you did what you felt was right.” Instead, you took the blame, the excuses, and the hatred; gathered them around you like a blanket. Used them as a shield against accepting the extent of the damage you did. And carried that shield into battle; making it a hill to die on. The battle was against me; and you made it not only personal, but extended it to anyone and everyone that believed or trusted in me. Some of them never realized the extent of your bias, your hate, and contempt. But I knew, I found out, I realize how much hatred and anger you have carried.
You spread lies about me to people who have never even met me. You stoked the fires of hatred among those that needed no further prodding to believe the worst. You created confusion in situations where my name – my integrity – my reputation should not have even been questioned; because I had no involvement in the incident until you brought me into it.
And, then, you acted as if nothing had ever happened. As if you had forgotten the years of disrespect and scorn you threw around to anyone who would listen – and quite a few who didn’t care to. You smiled and pretended that it was all bygones. I almost believed that you had seen the folly, the errors, and the reasons.
I found out; not because I am nosey or wise or even have connections. But the deceit will always be transparent – even if not at present. You waited, silently, smilingly until you believed I was no longer a force; a presence. But the truth came out. And I see now that your pretense, your acting, your deceit was much more than I believed you capable of.
The hopes I held for our friendship being renewed have burnt in the fire of contempt you created.
I am finished.
I don’t understand deceit; lies, sometimes – about hair or clothing or saying that you liked the movie when you really thought it was just plain trash. But deceit? Going behind someone’s back or not telling someone the whole story or hiding all the facts – that goes beyond trying not to hurt someone’s feelings because of a haircut or a dress.
I am beginning to see the dark and ugly side of life on a much more regular basis now. Following the rules on just the bare other side of cheating. Failing to take responsibility for actions you could have controlled or changed but chose not to. Making other people the excuse for your reactions or placing the blame and guilt on them when it was your fault it happened at all.
I feel betrayed. Why? You refused to accept the blame and reflect on the changes that should have been made; placing the blame on me. All would have been forgiven if you had just, could have just said “I’m sorry, it was my fault and I understand you did what you felt was right.” Instead, you took the blame, the excuses, and the hatred; gathered them around you like a blanket. Used them as a shield against accepting the extent of the damage you did. And carried that shield into battle; making it a hill to die on. The battle was against me; and you made it not only personal, but extended it to anyone and everyone that believed or trusted in me. Some of them never realized the extent of your bias, your hate, and contempt. But I knew, I found out, I realize how much hatred and anger you have carried.
You spread lies about me to people who have never even met me. You stoked the fires of hatred among those that needed no further prodding to believe the worst. You created confusion in situations where my name – my integrity – my reputation should not have even been questioned; because I had no involvement in the incident until you brought me into it.
And, then, you acted as if nothing had ever happened. As if you had forgotten the years of disrespect and scorn you threw around to anyone who would listen – and quite a few who didn’t care to. You smiled and pretended that it was all bygones. I almost believed that you had seen the folly, the errors, and the reasons.
I found out; not because I am nosey or wise or even have connections. But the deceit will always be transparent – even if not at present. You waited, silently, smilingly until you believed I was no longer a force; a presence. But the truth came out. And I see now that your pretense, your acting, your deceit was much more than I believed you capable of.
The hopes I held for our friendship being renewed have burnt in the fire of contempt you created.
I am finished.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Happiness
So many of my posts have been filled with rants and peeves and just general dis-gruntledness; I’m sure many of you (at least those that read the blog) might wonder if ANYTHING makes me happy? My husband will unequivocally swear that absolutely nothing he ever does seems to make me happy; but I’m sure there are a few things, in general, that do (in no particular order)…
Puppies – Notice I did not say baby animals. Although baby animals have a cuteness factor that is hard to ignore, they do not, per se, make me “happy”. Puppies frolic and play and bark and lick and chew. These can be very annoying things, I will admit, but in puppies it tends to be cute. Unless it’s your shoes they’re chewing on or the flower bed you just planted that they’re digging up. However, the act of a puppy playing and running in a backyard of children is just too much to not laugh about. And there is just something about puppy ‘kisses’ – actually pretty much dog kisses from any age of dog – that makes me smile.
Music – pretty much any kind of music, although it depends on the mood and the day. Usually anything summery or with a drum beat can get me to bob my head and feel better. And, I’ve discovered that gardening is pretty pleasant when I have my earphones in and don’t have to listen to the complaining of my children or husband about whatever is going wrong at the moment. Actually, that makes just about everything more pleasant.
A Clean House – I pay for someone(s) to come and clean my house twice a month. I pack all the children that I watch up, either take them to school or to the bible study care person (Thanks, Doug) and have two hours with friends, spent without children (except Hayden, who sleeps through most of it). The best part of it (sorry, friends) is that twice a month, after I’ve gathered all the little darlings back into my car and drug them home, I walk into a sparkling, shining clean home – including (BONUS) a spotlessly clean bathroom. And I didn’t have to spend four hours and countless interruptions doing it myself. Granted the cleanliness only lasts until the youngest in my house comes home from school, but a few hours of pretending I live in a magazine home is better than nothing. And, I get the anticipation of having it happen all over again in another two weeks.
Good meals with Good friends – I like to eat, and I like to cook; cooking and eating also usually involves friends and wine. My children don’t seem to appreciate what I cook, so the satisfaction of preparing something for a friend (even if they don’t gush over how wonderful it is) makes me happy. I don’t have to put up with the sulking, pouty, frowning faces across the table from me because I didn’t make chicken nuggets or order pizza for dinner.
Unsolicited compliments – a completely spontaneous notification from someone-other-than-my-husband about something nice about me will pretty much ensure a smile and a warm-fuzzy feeling. I love my husband, but I always feel his compliments have an underlying ulterior motive and am suspect of their validity. It’s kind of like being complimented by your mother. They don’t have to say nice things to you, but you kind of don’t believe them when they do because, well, they kind of have to.
Politically Incorrect Comedians – I have an odd sense of humor. And, sometimes it’s pretty blue (as in raunchy – not depressed). I find some types of un-PC humor extremely funny. And, some of it I find offensive. I think people (including me) need to laugh at themselves more often. We would be better equipped to handle the drama in our lives if we could learn to just see how stinkin’ funny some things really are. I’m way too literal (high-strung?) to do this myself; I need someone who’s paid obscene amounts of money to point out the obvious hilarity of certain situations.
I’m sure there are more things that make me happy; but I can’t think of them right now. I’m too busy being peeved at whatever it is that’s ticking me off today.
Puppies – Notice I did not say baby animals. Although baby animals have a cuteness factor that is hard to ignore, they do not, per se, make me “happy”. Puppies frolic and play and bark and lick and chew. These can be very annoying things, I will admit, but in puppies it tends to be cute. Unless it’s your shoes they’re chewing on or the flower bed you just planted that they’re digging up. However, the act of a puppy playing and running in a backyard of children is just too much to not laugh about. And there is just something about puppy ‘kisses’ – actually pretty much dog kisses from any age of dog – that makes me smile.
Music – pretty much any kind of music, although it depends on the mood and the day. Usually anything summery or with a drum beat can get me to bob my head and feel better. And, I’ve discovered that gardening is pretty pleasant when I have my earphones in and don’t have to listen to the complaining of my children or husband about whatever is going wrong at the moment. Actually, that makes just about everything more pleasant.
A Clean House – I pay for someone(s) to come and clean my house twice a month. I pack all the children that I watch up, either take them to school or to the bible study care person (Thanks, Doug) and have two hours with friends, spent without children (except Hayden, who sleeps through most of it). The best part of it (sorry, friends) is that twice a month, after I’ve gathered all the little darlings back into my car and drug them home, I walk into a sparkling, shining clean home – including (BONUS) a spotlessly clean bathroom. And I didn’t have to spend four hours and countless interruptions doing it myself. Granted the cleanliness only lasts until the youngest in my house comes home from school, but a few hours of pretending I live in a magazine home is better than nothing. And, I get the anticipation of having it happen all over again in another two weeks.
Good meals with Good friends – I like to eat, and I like to cook; cooking and eating also usually involves friends and wine. My children don’t seem to appreciate what I cook, so the satisfaction of preparing something for a friend (even if they don’t gush over how wonderful it is) makes me happy. I don’t have to put up with the sulking, pouty, frowning faces across the table from me because I didn’t make chicken nuggets or order pizza for dinner.
Unsolicited compliments – a completely spontaneous notification from someone-other-than-my-husband about something nice about me will pretty much ensure a smile and a warm-fuzzy feeling. I love my husband, but I always feel his compliments have an underlying ulterior motive and am suspect of their validity. It’s kind of like being complimented by your mother. They don’t have to say nice things to you, but you kind of don’t believe them when they do because, well, they kind of have to.
Politically Incorrect Comedians – I have an odd sense of humor. And, sometimes it’s pretty blue (as in raunchy – not depressed). I find some types of un-PC humor extremely funny. And, some of it I find offensive. I think people (including me) need to laugh at themselves more often. We would be better equipped to handle the drama in our lives if we could learn to just see how stinkin’ funny some things really are. I’m way too literal (high-strung?) to do this myself; I need someone who’s paid obscene amounts of money to point out the obvious hilarity of certain situations.
I’m sure there are more things that make me happy; but I can’t think of them right now. I’m too busy being peeved at whatever it is that’s ticking me off today.
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