59

Last Friday my dad turned 59.

59….. really? No way?

59…. Cant be?

59…. seriously?  When did that happen?

My very existence seems to reject the thought of my Dad celebrating his 59th birthday? Reality check – big time!

Out of what seems like a freight train to nowhere, screams the question, when did this happen and why does a simple birthday trigger such an immense whirlpool of emotions?

Deep inside my thoughts, a key turns, sticks a bit, wobbles some more and then click, something unlocks. A realisation, prefect synchronicity, gently guiding the way.

All the pieces move, rotate and turn, not quite reaching that perfect alignment but close enough to begin to allow themselves to be felt .   Its still out of reach, there, but not there, brief moments, a glimpse and then gone. A gentle wisp of a whisper, then gone.

I find myself writing on his birthday card, “to the most wonderful, amazing, perfect and fabulous dad a girl could ever wish for!”

My inner child isn't just speaking, she’s screaming.

Like so many relationships in my life, Dad and I have drifted.  Our relationship evolving slowly, seemingly at a snails pace, yet somehow over the years the snails pace of continental drift navigated an ocean.

Simple things changed, life evolved and we slowly moved in different directions.   Basically I grew up, left home and became a mum.  Dad remarried and we both started moved on. Dreams came and went and what was once, became something else.

We celebrated his birthday with a quiet family dinner, intimate and in great comfort.  The whispers niggled, came, went, touched and constantly nudged.  Pulling gently in the direction of knowing there is something more. 

I am a student in a course of miracles and the lesson of today ( number 122 ) states “forgiveness offers everything I want”.   This morning the niggling remained, my thoughts drifting too and always coming back to my dad turning 59.   In the shower following a simple meditation,  I allowed my mind to drift over these words “forgiveness offers everything I want”, a gentle pull “I want”, again “what do I want” and the response, so gentle, so quiet, so simple and so young, so very very young “I want it all to be over”

The whispers, the truth, the hidden door, flung open, the profound simplicity of a child's wants,  truth, hurt, shame, anger all there, allowed.

Now before jumping to thoughts that I’m suicidal, This truth requires some explaining.  A brief history of how and why it all comes together to fit with my relationship with my dad.    I, correction, we, as well as being parent and child were thrown together, as only those who have lived with and through illness know,  through life changing, knock you for six, what the hell just happened moments.

When I was 7, what was once a loving home, was instantly transformed upside down, vertically around, and from here to there by my mums onset of illness.  Life stopped, spun out of control,  rearranged itself, then after a while,  turned around and became something else.  We were, along with my two infant brothers, side swiped, completely unawares into a constant roller coaster life of turmoil, drama, illness, upset and uncertainty.  Laughter, fun and adventure dissolved into anxiety, fear and chaos.

In a way my childhood ended that day.  I, beside dad, took on the role of support person, big sister and caretaker. Through all of this dad was always a foundation.  No one new what was going on, or what would happen yet he was there, calm, consistent, and rock solid.  He took as much as we did and we learned this quiet support, unspoken, and loving comfort in just having the other person there. 

“Forgiveness offers everything I want”, my inner child screams, cries, yells  “I want it all to be over” – I want the turmoil, the conflict, the drama, the attacks, the fear and the hurt to be over.  I want to forgive the past, the uncertainty and the anger and let it all go.  I want to be free.

I want to be free of always being on guard, of never knowing when or where the next attack would come from, free of waiting for the next hurt and free of having to clean up the mess.  I want to be free of always being the strong one, free of pretending I’m always ok, free of pretending that it didn’t hurt and that I'm fine, free of putting on a brave face and keeping on.  No more, “Chin up girl, your mum needs you’s”.

Underneath all of that, I want to be free to have a relationship with my Dad.   Without all of the hurt, pain and turmoil. 

What would that relationship be like?  I guess I’m about to find out.