Not under your shadow but under mine

I had the privilege of being the best man at my fathers wedding this past Saturday. I am very happy for him and his new bride. I learned something that night that was worth noting.

I begin my story by stating an observation: There are many things that are shared in circumstances such as mine. When I meet a person who grew up in a broken home, with an absent father the stories and difficulties are much the same.

One shared experience is that a person always lets the absent parent "off the hook" when it comes to doing the work of confronting the injustices of a childhood. The child, later becoming an adult, always vents their frustration on the present parent and their current spouse, condemning them as the enemy and source of conflict. The absent parent however is typically free of criticism, and the consensus seems to be that the absence in the relationship creates an elevating of that parent beyond reproach. Any time an individual is elevated beyond a status that they do not deserve in someone's mind, the person grows to resent that individual though they are never permitted to express this grievance.

The reason that we cannot fully express this animosity is realizing that should we do so, we may lose the relationship that we desire with that parent... that elusive relationship that we are always pursuing yet is never fully satisfied.

But I digress...

All of these years I was never under the shadow of my father, he was under mine. I gave the toast at the wedding, and everyone spoke highly of me to my father. He and I both had a deep affection for one Mazie McGinnis; his mother; my grandmother. As everyone is telling my father their fondness of my toast, he shares with them some insight left to him by his mother concerning me:
She told him...

"He (me, Ryan) was the son I always wanted."

We retell such stories in jest. My father and I both have an uncomfortable sense of humor when we are nervous, agitated, or hurt. It's sufficient enough for masking our true selves. While reflecting on this I realized that my father and I share much more in common than our jaded sense of humor, we both wrestle with our inadequacies.

There is no joy in putting him "on the hook" (or anyone for that matter) for what cannot be changed. Over the last few years I have seen enough to know that he has placed himself on a hook grieved by the choices that he has made and the ramifications thereof. He has conveyed that his absence weighs heavily on him. What does it profit me to punish him more?

The past cannot be changed, it can only be reconciled. Transgressions cannot be atoned, they can only be forgiven. My memories cannot be changed, and thus what was therein can only be grieved.

I will sing a dirge for them in such moments, but in all others I will rejoice for there is still life to be lived. That is, there is time that I can share with my father. Though that time can never replace what has been lost, it matters all the same.

Congratulations Pop, to you and your new bride:
All the ineffable blessings that my vocabulary lacks in ability to bestow upon you both
Your son, upon whom and from whom no shadow has been cast, only my sincerest affections and appreciation,
Ryan