I wrote the following a month ago, on or around Sept 9th.
I received an email from my brother Keith this past Monday: My father passed away that morning – that’s all it said. He was 86, he died after being in a nursing home in Florida for several years. Please don’t feel sorry for the passing of my father. Feel sorry for me since I’ve been estranged from him for close to 35 years.
I don’t even know where to start this story. I was brought up by my mom and dad as a Baptist. This meant we usually went to church on Sundays, for “Sunday School”, then the usual church service after that, and then went back for a different worship service that evening as well. We did this for as long as I can remember, from a little boy thru-out high school.
I graduated in 1977 and this was a time when divorce was rare, not as prevalent as it is today. I did not know anyone in school or in my neighborhood whose parents were divorced. A year after I graduated high school, my dad apparently was unhappy with his marriage to my mom. It became evident that summer that something was going on with him, and we somehow learned he was having an affair with another woman. I think this greatly saddened my mother, but also made her angry, apparently angry enough to have my older brother change both exterior door locks in the house and basically locked him out of his own house he shared with her. He, of course, after finding the locks changed, got quite angry himself and basically busted down the back door, and took various things out of the house.
Within a couple of months, after twenty seven years of marriage, my mom started divorce proceedings. I was 19. Not a kid, but not an adult either. I could see how this affair affected my mother, and felt it necessary to ‘take her side’. My mother was a very introverted person and it saddens me to say this, but her life revolved around my dad. Even though she worked full time (in an office) and had always worked since I went into elementary school, and she had two boys, her life revolved around her husband. She didn’t have that many friends, and (in later conversations with her), I learned she never considered her work colleagues as ‘friends’. So, naturally, she was devastated by his leaving, I don’t know whether they had had conversations before his leaving, but I assume they did, but it seemed to me, that summer, their marriage was over. I felt trapped, and I think my brother felt trapped as well. We both were still living at home, (myself, 19, and Keith, 21), and I think I remember my dad did offer at least once, an opportunity to come live with him. I just couldn’t do this, to this day, I’m still not sure why – obligation to my mom, perhaps?
Early on, I had contact with him on and off, a letter or birthday or Christmas card from him every year, sometimes asking me to call or asking me to visit him, but I never took the opportunity to meet with him – strange, very strange but I wanted to show loyalty to my mom – or perhaps, I just hated him, to this day, I really don’t know. I moved to L.A. a few years later when I was just 24, and he tried calling me one night, and I hung up on him. Only much later, did I learn he was at the front gate of my apartment complex, using the gate phone, and was trying to visit me – he was just a few hundred feet away when he called. I’m still not sure if he had flown out on business or if it was a special trip to see his young son. A few years after that, after moving to MN at age 29, and eventually living with my Fiancée (Gail), he started calling our house at all hours, disrupting not only my sleep, but hers as well. I felt I needed to write a letter to him, asking him to stop. He eventually did. I think that that was when the cards and letters stopped as well.
Ten or more years after that period, when I was about to turn 41, I was having my own marriage issues, and was seeking counseling as well – I saw a psychologist for a short period of time, and he recommended I attend some men’s group counseling sessions which I did. During the first few sessions, I shared my marriage issues as well as sharing my lack of a relationship with my father. Almost to a man, (and I think there were 5-6 other guys on these ‘group’ sessions), everyone said the same thing: Before you can fix your current relationship with your wife, you HAVE to fix your relationship with your dad first. My psychologist “assigned” me some homework: Write a letter to your dad. I came back a week later for the next group session – without the letter. Everyone was very disappointed in me. I went home that night and started writing my letter to him. It took me a few hours, and may have taken more than one night to write it, but I finally wrote several pages to him. At the next group session, I took the letter with me – I either knew I was supposed to read it to them, OR perhaps I didn’t. I forget now. But, it ended up with me reading the letter out loud to these 5 or 6 men, whom I didn’t know outside of that group – just fellow guys who also had their own issues they were trying to deal with. I started to read the letter, and somewhere, probably within the first few pages, I started to weep, and started to cry, and finally just bawled my heart out. I had kept all this pain inside me for 20 years – and it was such a relief to let it all out – I didn’t care what these guys thought – i would never see them at work, or wherever, and they didn’t know me either, so I cried and cried. That’s all that I remember, but I’m sure, they all probably gave me a hug afterwards. The writing of the letter was an exercise, the reading of the letter was an exercise as well. I think the expectation was for me to send it, give it or read it to my dad, but I failed that part of the exercise. I don’t think I ever mailed it to him. If I did, I’m sure, it probably would have helped us to reconcile. But, I didn’t. so, for this reason, and for this reason alone, now you can feel sorry for me. Stupid me, being so f’ing afraid – but afraid of what – afraid of confrontation, afraid of the unknown, afraid of showing my true feelings to him – of what, anger, of sadness, of a lack of love toward him??
I don’t know what it was, but I just could not reconcile with him, AND, this has greatly, greatly I say, affected my adult life. You see, yes, I did have a dad when I was young – from when I was a baby and until I was just out of high school, but a young man also needs his dad, especially during those ‘young adult growing up’ years when they are in their 20’s and perhaps their 30’s as well. I didn’t allow my dad in my life to help guide me in my twenties when I was starting out in my future career, asking for advice regarding how to work and deal with work colleagues. I didn’t allow him in my life when I found Gail and married her, never seeking his advice on that relationship or other ones. I also missed out on getting advice from my father on other things as well: how to fix stuff around the house, etc. I never allowed him into my life to invite him to come on any vacations with me. Etc. etc.
Here is what I remember about him:
He was quite generous. He had a temper – if you were a (not-so-smart) smart aleck teenager in his home. He liked showing off. He didn’t like to lose – he felt it necessary to “win” at basketball when playing against my brother. He sucked in his gut when pictures were being taken of him. He grew up in a poor family, and from a broken home. He had a white collar career, and was quite successful at it. He had enough confidence in his abilities when he was 40 to order plans on how to build a speed boat and successfully built it in the family garage, allowing us to go out on Lake Saint Clair on occasion. Same for his trying to finish an unfinished basement – he at least tried finishing it (even though it was a sloppy job).
This is where I stopped writing on Sept. 9th. Not sure why I stopped, obviously, i probably had a few more things to say, but I was writing it while at work…
An interesting aside: When I was in either 5th or 6th grade, I attended a funeral with my parents, and learned the man who had passed away was my father’s dad – and that my ‘Grandpa Vic” wasn’t my real grandfather. I also learned that my dad was estranged from his dad before I was even born and therefore, hadn’t seen him in ten years or more. I now remember thinking (at that time) I wouldn’t want that to happen between myself and my dad.
Since I was estranged from my dad for so long, and also have been estranged from my brother Keith for the past several years now, I was not given the details of my dad’s funeral service (whether they were in Florida or in Michigan, and when). If I had gotten the details, I hope I would have been man enough to have attended the funeral service, to pay my last respects. Since I wasn’t able to do that, I am doing it now with this essay.
Dad: I know you tried to get your son back in your life many times over the first several years. I made a huge mistake when I was in my early twenties and had several chances to rectify it, but never did. I am truly sorry.
Rest in Peace, Dad – Darwin D. (Mike) Williams – 1928-2014.
Your son,
Brian.
