Friday, December 12, 2008

Killing Several Birds With One Stone

I think perhaps I have had an epiphany and figured out where this Christmas dread comes from. It's a long, pathetic story and I'm not going to go all into it here but I think it has to do with me being a little girl who did pray and who prayed all the time and especially at Christmas for a father to show up and a world that kept telling the little girl that Christmas miracles do happen, especially when it's a child praying for them because Jesus, he was a child and God, he was a father, and what could be more fitting than for a father to show up for his children? What more worthy miracle to perform?

The miracle never happened, the father never showed up.

I hear that once he WAS on his way from Tennessee to Florida, where we lived, but only got as far as Tallahassee where he left the woman he was traveling with and went out on a bender and she, left behind in a strange place and probably insane, too (I present as evidence that she was traveling with my father) and abandoned for days, hung herself in the motel room where he'd left her.

And then my father was arrested for possible murder and jailed for a bit until the powers-that-be let him go and well, I guess by then he wasn't in the mood to come see his children.

And it's probably all for the best that he didn't.

Doesn't it make sense that in one fell swoop, the belief in god, the belief in Christmas, the tolerance for the true meaning of that particular holiday was destroyed? That all those Christmases when what I really wanted wasn't a Barbie or a Chatty Cathy or a new bike but a father, my father, as useless and toxic as he was because he was, after all, my only father and that his continued absence killed something inside of me?

Listen- there are many ways to kill and many things to kill. Souls and spirits and hopes and faith and dreams. And women and children left abandoned.

And I suppose this could explain some of my bitterness, some of my dread.

I wish that now the Christmas miracle would happen. That now, because I know why I feel the way I do, I could heal this old heart, I could let it open up to some of the joy that the world seems to feel Christmas offers.

Forgive the father for never coming. Forgive the mother for never trying to figure out what was going on in my heart. Let go. Let god. Etc.

I will talk to that little child within and see what she says about all of this.
If I can find her.
If she'll talk to me.

I'm not holding my breath.

15 comments:

  1. Oh Ms. Moon,
    I am so sorry for that pain. For that little girl with the broken heart. I have no answers for anyone. And very few for myself. I would never dare to speak for God, but I hold onto my faith with both hands. My wavering faith became solidified during the worst time of my life-when my dad was diagnosed w/lung cancer and died within 2 months- that seems like a contridiction. But it is true. I see you looking for answers, looking for hope. Looking for peace. And I want to fill that up with my own words. My own experience. Because I think that it will help. But who am I? What do I know? If you ever want to have a conversation with me, I am always here. I'm not a preacher, I'm not a theologian, I'm not full of wisdom, knowledge or perfection. I am just me. But I'm willing to share whatever I have.
    Peace to you. Everyday.
    -Michelle

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  2. And I can understand completely why that kind of pain is lasting and gets in the way of all the things Christmas stands for: hope, joy, healing and love. It didn't happen for you. I'm deeply sorry for those scars. Really. Hang on to what you have now, what you know you can believe in.

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  3. And yet you raised 4 kids plus who knows how many other people in love and in happiness and hope, and you never badmouthed our dad and you found not one but TWO loving, caring fathers for us, even in the face of all that pain and poison. You spit in the devil's eye and got away when he blinked. And that sure feels like a miracle to me, Christmas time or any time.

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  4. Oh, son. You've made me cry so hard.
    Thank you.
    I love you so much.

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  5. Just me- I thank you and I do have faith and it has been born of hardship as well as many miracles but it's not that sort of faith. But it's mine.
    It will have to do.

    Nannygoat- thank-you.

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  6. I can't say it any better than my brother, but I completely agree. You are an amazing mama and woman, and I think it is just fine for you not to love Christmas. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me such wonderful memories of Christmas each year. I love you so.

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  7. I understand. Completely. Just...I understand.

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  8. My heart breaks for you, Ms. Moon. I'm so very sorry that you had to go through that as a child. I can't imagine, or I can, but in a completely different way. I think that you and I are more alike than even I'd previously thought.

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  9. Honeyluna- you KNOW how I feel about you and how much your words mean to me.
    How could anyone not be a good mother to you?
    You make it too damn easy.
    I love you so.

    SJ and Aunt Becky- all I can say is, I'm sorry you can relate.
    But- we shall persevere!

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  10. Wow, I remember you saying you didn't have a great relationship with your father, but I had no idea how screwed that situation was. It seems like you have done an amazing job of turning things around for yourself and your kids.

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  11. Wow. Just, wow. We are definitely affected by more than others realize. You are an amazing writer. I will definitely be back here.

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  12. Lady Lemon- well, my childhood definitely gave me a lot of information about what sort of father a child needs.
    Or fathers, as the case may be.

    Ginger- thank you so much.

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  13. this so made me cry! i can't believe how much things in our childhood shapes us... but it certainly does...

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  14. CMe- I think we learn it all as children and then spend the rest of our lives trying to figure out what we need to unlearn.
    It's a journey.

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  15. I kept hoping that the further in I got in your blog your reason for not liking Christmas so much would come out. I hear how alcoholism destroys more than the lives of drinkers thru an unrelated 12 step program I am in and your story makes me understand even more how horrifying addiction is. Once again I am struck by how you managed to create such goodness in your life despite how hurt you were. My heart is touched again as well at your children's reaction to the story and how they love you. I don't know you Ms Moon but I feel admiration, perhaps love towards you for birthing children and making damn sure they had what you didn't and more. And something I learned in reading this entry for myself is that in doing that for your own kids, the pain is still there. I often wondered if I had the opportunity to do it "right" with children of my own, I might be more ok and this shows me that perhaps not and perhaps I can let that grief of not having children go. I can do things right with all I come into contact with. I know you will say you didn't/don't do everything perfect for those kids. I am not trying to swell your head either. I know nothing is perfect but when I read of exchanges between you and your kids, it is everything I've ever dreamed of.

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