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Tony Grist

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After The Funeral [Sep. 15th, 2004|09:19 am]
Tony Grist
My father died at the back end of last year. We've had time to grieve and now it seems like we're all beginning to remember what a gruesome old sod he was. I spent all my adult life disliking him and keeping as far away from him as I could, then, just at the end, as if we'd seen a warning flare go up, we made a special effort and had two or three good hours together. After the funeral it seemed like those two or three good hours had cancelled out all that went before, but of course they hadn't.

He was "disappointed" in me. That's what I've recently heard. I knew it in my bones (of course) but it was a shock to be told it. In the rare times when we were together the disappointment hung in the air like fog, but it was never spoken. I used always to get migraines when I visited him.

So what were you disappointed in, Dad? What exactly? And when did you decide that I was so disappointing? When I was 35? 25? 15? 5? I've really no means of telling because I don't ever remember a time when you acted like you enjoyed having me around.

Forgiveness? I don't understand what that word means. You were the way you were. You cast a blight over my life and many other lives. And nothing I do or say now can change it.

[User Picture]From: tamnonlinear
2004-09-15 07:24 am (UTC)
Yes, Nanna is of that generation. Everything pared down as bare as possible, nothing unnecessary, don't have anything extra, don't trust if you can help it. Sadly, she included her children in this, so emotions and approval were held so tightly you'd think they were a limited quantity, you had to see if it was too great a risk to give them out, and it was a failure if you didn't get the return you expected in your children. As if all the world was a matter of your personal 'investment' and anything that didn't give back what you expected was a personal betrayal. My mother grew up in a house were approval was given so little that she still doubts she deserves it, even when she gets it. Not that she talks about it like that, but it's easy enough to hear when she talks to her mother, and hering that Nanna still never asks about anyone else or listens when information is offered.

(for reference, my Mum is a very strong woman, she's acheived a tremendous and admirable amount, and she's someone whose judgment and insight I value greatly. Mum deserves a lot of praise.)

I don't know if there's a way to make sense of it. The only advice I can give my Mum when she's having these sorts of worries (usually right before or after a visit or phone call) is that Nanna has the right, screwed up as it is, to define her life the way she wants to, but that same freedom extends to us as well, and she doesn't get to define us. It's about boundires, which is one of the things that parents are so very good at fucking up.

As I'v heard it said, your family is usually great at pushing your buttons because they're the ones who installed them in the first place.
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2004-09-15 08:22 am (UTC)
I'm hoping I've achieved something by writing this post. I was feeling blocked- like I had nothing to say- but I've been in that position often enough to know that it means I'm suppressing something. So I dug around a bit and these feelings about my father are what I found.

This afternoon I've been walking around telling myself- hey, he's not around any more. He doesn't exist any more. He's gone. And I've celebrated (cruel word, but it's what I feel) by taking down two pictures of him I've had on display and putting them away in the family photograph box.

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[User Picture]From: tamnonlinear
2004-09-15 08:36 am (UTC)
I don't think it's cruel. He's not around anymore to be hurt by it, and it helps you. Sounds like a good deal to me.

i hope it helps too.
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2004-09-15 08:39 am (UTC)
Thanks. It's been an emotionally gruelling day, but I'm feeling quite cheerful now. :)
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