That's a terrible picture, cutting off half of each baby, but by the time we all sit down to eat it's always a bit chaotic and I was practically standing on someone at another table and so there you go. It's sort of darling anyway, the two curly-headed cousins, eating their pancakes and bacon.
I've had too much sadness in my heart today. Do I always feel this way on Father's Day? I can't remember. I should go back and read what I've written before but I just don't feel like it. I am not entirely sad by any means. The fact that I somehow, by some damn miracle was able to find a man like Glen Moon to love me and be father to my children is a joyful thing. A thing I wonder at frequently. It is no secret that we choose the partners in life whom we feel most comfortable with because we know the steps we will dance with them. Thus, those who were abused pick out abusers to love, those who had addicts as parents pick out addicts to love. And so forth.
We all know this.
And yet, somehow, some way, when I met Glen I knew that I was being given a shot at happiness and at safety and security and even, dare I say it?
And the miracle part is that I did not just immediately disdain and discard him but instead, slowly accepted that he did indeed love me and that he would be the very best father my already-here children and any children-to-be-had could possibly have. All I had to do to confirm that was to look at his father who was good through and through and whom Glen loved tremendously and without reservation. Same with his mama.
And I took a deep breath and jumped and I have never, for a second, regretted that.
So there is that element to Father's Day which is yet one more made-up day that can bring up so many conflicted thoughts and emotions. Facebook is filled with pictures of loving good men, holding their children- husbands and fathers, all of them proclaiming, "Best Father in the World!"
In one way or another.
And I think about my own father whom I saw only once after I was five years old and how deep the wound was when my mother tore us away from him and how it's never healed and never will. She had no choice, my mother. The man well could have killed all of us, such a bad, bad drunk who had a gun.
There is a part of me that will never recover from that.
And then, oh yes! The stepfather. The Asshole. The abuser. I still can't say his name unless I am forced to. That's how powerfully he affected my life.
In fact, I so often feel just this side of ruined by both men and there's a part of me who, when she sees posts on FB about how much someone misses their daddy who died I think, "At least you had a good father. At least you knew he loved you."
And I am bitter. And I am petty.
But. Even though all of this is on my heart today, there was this.
And there was all of this.
Levon wants to share food with Owen. He is a very generous child.
And this little girl who will grow up untarnished and unbent from her childhood. Who has a father who cherishes her and who has changed her diapers and picked out her outfits and rocked her to sleep and answered her questions and shown his love for her every day of her life.
It is quite clear to me that she will never tolerate being treated in any manner which is not respectful in all regards.
And there is nothing I could wish for more.
It was a good Father's Day celebration. There were funny cards and sweet cards. Pancakes with sweet potatoes and bananas and apples. Bacon and sausage made of wild pig. The sausage, not the bacon. And there was a giant Costco cake. And little tastes of Vergil's latest oatmeal stout which was delicious. And a quiche that Lily made with tomatoes and basil and cheese.
It was all good.
Here is one of my very favorite pictures of the day.
Maggie had tucked one of her babies and my old Zippy into my bed together. Inter-species love. One of my very favorite things.
After everyone went home, I took a long nap. Not so much because I was really tired. August slept beautifully last night and didn't wake up until nine this morning which might be a record for him. I needed a nap because in order to let things settle in my heart and in my brain.
Things are still settling.
I saw a meme today that said, "Happy Father's Day to all of the fathers who didn't abuse their children."
Wow. I know I'm not the only one. I wish to god I were.
Pretty sure therapists were plotting this all along- "send out the bad Clowns"- "we'll have job security for- ever!". I can never make sense of this world. What does make sense is bacon and sausage- THAT is something I can live another day for.ReplyDelete
Beautiful post, Mary. I was one of the "lucky" ones who has had a wonderful father, but I know so many who did not, including my love Carl. My friend the great writer Lidia Yuknavitch who was terrorized by her own father wrote these words which I think would resonate with you and many: "To the fatherless, to the wounded by fathers, To those haunted by whatever father was or is: there are other origins. The night sky, stitched as it is with stars, carries pieces of us all. And oceans. And each of our hands, making meaning from nothing."ReplyDelete
You, Mary, make meaning -- from nothing and everything -- every single day.
Oh Mary your sadness! I hope that this honest and moving and beautiful way of writing it down helps.ReplyDelete
And children - to raise children and grandchildren with love and respect is a healing process.
I always had a hard time picking out cards for my father when he was alive. He was such an angry man and a petty tyrant who I now understand was a very lonely, scared man but still, what kind of card do you get for a man like that? Do they even have such a card?ReplyDelete
I'm glad you had a good time. We had our grandson here for half the weekend and my daughter came to visit as well so it was busy, plus Katie's party. I was so tired last night and sad too that my son missed out on his first father's day because of his own addictions.
father's day, like all holidays, is a non event around here though I did make him blueberry pecan pancakes for breakfast and our daughter dropped in and a text from out son. low key just the way we like it. Glen and your sons-in-law must be the universe trying to make up for the past or maybe just some good karma you earned.ReplyDelete
WOW Ms Mary do I Identify on so many levels...You and your family are the Bomb!ReplyDelete
You hit a couple nerves in me with this post...I actually teared up! I'm glad you had a good day.ReplyDelete
PLUS...Batman came to your house for dinner! THAT in itself is another reason to clap hands.ReplyDelete
You and your family are breaking the cycle. That is a huge plus. (Needless to say.)ReplyDelete
Father's Day is kind of a non-event for me, actually. My own father died a few years ago and I miss him, but I don't connect him at all to Father's Day -- which, as you said, is a made-up holiday. I don't feel any personal connection to the day at all, good or bad.
You have created an entirely new story for your children, who will never have to hold this sadness. I do know what it is to be in the midst of such joy and absolutely relish it yet be inside that melancholy bubble looking out. I am happy for all the good fathers in your life, dear Mary. And I love your honesty.ReplyDelete