The legacy of my father
It's been 8 months and 16 days since my father passed away. I have to say the least I have reevaluated him during that time. The immediate and constant pain, well, it's not there in the same manner it was in the beginning even though I had too much going on to even realize he was gone when that happened. I can look back now with a sense of pride. I did better than I could have expected of myself. I promise those who know me, I will not leave that much unfinished business behind me when I go.
I see a lot of him in me, and I find it amusing. It becomes more apperant in comparison to my mother and my brother too. When I touch twelve shirts to find the one who feels the best in my hand I say "Hello, Dad", when I only eat the corn on my plate and leave the rest because it doesn't have the right shade I say "Hello, Dad", when I laugh at a joke in my head too strange to explain I say "Hello, Dad". Perhaps I'm just making excuses for my sometimes odd behaviour but it's always nice to know his quirks live on in me.
I've made a conscious decision to let me keep his memory in my own way, not taking others into concideration. It has gotten a bit easier after that. When others speak of him they do it from their point of view, not from the one of his second daughter. I don't want to interfer with their ideas of him so I usually sit quietly, sometimes it might seem like I don't remember him at all because I don't talk about him that much, nothing could be further from the truth. I think about him every day, but I've stopped (well, pretty much) trying to make him make sense. He didn't when he was alive so why should he when he's dead? It could be as simple as the parts of me that i don't understand are the ones I got from him.
If I'm smiling when I pass by a mirror I see that I have his teeth, but I only see it when I catch myself a bit off guard, not when i smile to charm. That says something too, he didn't set out to charm people, he just did. Well, when he was up for it. Sometimes I even see his insecurites in me, the need to feel accepted but at the same time only wanting to be accepted for the person I truly am and the confusion of knowing exactly what people want from me - the constant conflict of pleasing others or myself.
Some memories still stab me like a rusty dagger full of bacteria and filth and then I just want to run and hide. When I can't do that I just wave it off even if I want to cry and scream. I wonder if that'll ever go away. In a way it's easier to love him when he's gone, the bad memories will fade as I choose not to keep them in mind as much and the good ones will remain close to my heart.
Comparing myself to him is good in a way, I can see where he went off track and caused more pain than was necessary. Hopefully bearing that in mind will keep me from making the same mistakes, even though I've already made some. It comes with the territory I suppose.
But, I would like to point out that I've let go of the general anger because I never have to seek his approval again and I have accepted him for the person he was and with that I have also accepted the parts of me that remind me of him, no matter how confusing they seem. And if our last conversations were as true as they felt he accepted me for me and he wouldn't have wanted me to be any differently, and with that I know that somewhere down the line I'll be able to please others as well as myself.
And thank you for the smile Dad, it always gives me what I want.
I see a lot of him in me, and I find it amusing. It becomes more apperant in comparison to my mother and my brother too. When I touch twelve shirts to find the one who feels the best in my hand I say "Hello, Dad", when I only eat the corn on my plate and leave the rest because it doesn't have the right shade I say "Hello, Dad", when I laugh at a joke in my head too strange to explain I say "Hello, Dad". Perhaps I'm just making excuses for my sometimes odd behaviour but it's always nice to know his quirks live on in me.
I've made a conscious decision to let me keep his memory in my own way, not taking others into concideration. It has gotten a bit easier after that. When others speak of him they do it from their point of view, not from the one of his second daughter. I don't want to interfer with their ideas of him so I usually sit quietly, sometimes it might seem like I don't remember him at all because I don't talk about him that much, nothing could be further from the truth. I think about him every day, but I've stopped (well, pretty much) trying to make him make sense. He didn't when he was alive so why should he when he's dead? It could be as simple as the parts of me that i don't understand are the ones I got from him.
If I'm smiling when I pass by a mirror I see that I have his teeth, but I only see it when I catch myself a bit off guard, not when i smile to charm. That says something too, he didn't set out to charm people, he just did. Well, when he was up for it. Sometimes I even see his insecurites in me, the need to feel accepted but at the same time only wanting to be accepted for the person I truly am and the confusion of knowing exactly what people want from me - the constant conflict of pleasing others or myself.
Some memories still stab me like a rusty dagger full of bacteria and filth and then I just want to run and hide. When I can't do that I just wave it off even if I want to cry and scream. I wonder if that'll ever go away. In a way it's easier to love him when he's gone, the bad memories will fade as I choose not to keep them in mind as much and the good ones will remain close to my heart.
Comparing myself to him is good in a way, I can see where he went off track and caused more pain than was necessary. Hopefully bearing that in mind will keep me from making the same mistakes, even though I've already made some. It comes with the territory I suppose.
But, I would like to point out that I've let go of the general anger because I never have to seek his approval again and I have accepted him for the person he was and with that I have also accepted the parts of me that remind me of him, no matter how confusing they seem. And if our last conversations were as true as they felt he accepted me for me and he wouldn't have wanted me to be any differently, and with that I know that somewhere down the line I'll be able to please others as well as myself.
And thank you for the smile Dad, it always gives me what I want.
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