(Written around 6 October 2013).
Dad.
It was a few weeks ago, that it hit me.
I'd been sitting with a dear friend, discussing her mother's fate, that she was close to "the end," from a terminal illness.
She was saying how she wished her mother would, for one moment, see the beauty in life before she passed, and it all came rushing to me.
You see, these days, old blocks or patterns of behavior around/within me, are crumbling. My best description is that as I break these old patterns, an otherwise incomplete circle, seals itself and that pattern is cracked and sent into oblivion, or burned to dust.
As my friend was wishing out loud that her mother would see beauty in life before passing on, my grandfather came to mind. He passed on many years ago, on his eldest son's, my fathers day of birth-sadly.
From someone or somewhere, I have it in my head that in the moments before he let go, he called his youngest daughter, and apologized to her. (Perhaps this was made up by imagination, and gives insight into how/what I'd thought of my own relationship with my father..).
I said to my friend that it's still possible. It's still possible that before she passes away, she sees the beauty in life.
Upon arriving home, I wrote to my father immediately, excited like I just won the lottery, and actually I had. The lottery of life..
With tears streaming as I wrote, I was shouting in the email with joy of how "we'd done it!"
We broke the pattern. In the eyes of the family, I'd lived my life ass-backwards, rebelling, breaking all the rules, and my superhero father didn't wait. He accepted me, unconditionally, not letting life pass us by until there were but a few moments left to proclaim his love for his daughter, like his father did to my aunt.
To love unconditionally wasn't something that came with growing up at home, but we, both my father and I, battled our demons to learn what it means.
My dad, half of the whole which comprises my superhero, means more than the world to me.
Part 3 of 3 to come- My Beautiful Mother
Dad.
It was a few weeks ago, that it hit me.
I'd been sitting with a dear friend, discussing her mother's fate, that she was close to "the end," from a terminal illness.
She was saying how she wished her mother would, for one moment, see the beauty in life before she passed, and it all came rushing to me.
You see, these days, old blocks or patterns of behavior around/within me, are crumbling. My best description is that as I break these old patterns, an otherwise incomplete circle, seals itself and that pattern is cracked and sent into oblivion, or burned to dust.
As my friend was wishing out loud that her mother would see beauty in life before passing on, my grandfather came to mind. He passed on many years ago, on his eldest son's, my fathers day of birth-sadly.
From someone or somewhere, I have it in my head that in the moments before he let go, he called his youngest daughter, and apologized to her. (Perhaps this was made up by imagination, and gives insight into how/what I'd thought of my own relationship with my father..).
I said to my friend that it's still possible. It's still possible that before she passes away, she sees the beauty in life.
Upon arriving home, I wrote to my father immediately, excited like I just won the lottery, and actually I had. The lottery of life..
With tears streaming as I wrote, I was shouting in the email with joy of how "we'd done it!"
"......My dearest Dad, my superhero, thankyou for loving me and letting me know it, and not carrying it to your deathbed with you, like papaji did. You broke a pattern and because of that, you freed not just yourself but me too.
You learned your karmic lesson, (and I know how difficult it's been for you all of these years), but you are so much stronger and more alive and beautiful now.
I love you Dad, you've been my mother and my father. You've shown and taught me strength like no other person on earth. I am you dad, I am yours, you created me and I am me now..."
We broke the pattern. In the eyes of the family, I'd lived my life ass-backwards, rebelling, breaking all the rules, and my superhero father didn't wait. He accepted me, unconditionally, not letting life pass us by until there were but a few moments left to proclaim his love for his daughter, like his father did to my aunt.
To love unconditionally wasn't something that came with growing up at home, but we, both my father and I, battled our demons to learn what it means.
My dad, half of the whole which comprises my superhero, means more than the world to me.
Part 3 of 3 to come- My Beautiful Mother
