I read Joan H's post The Power of the Apology and it hit home, you know, like a fist in the gut. I don't want to go into details, 55 years is a lot of details to cover in one post, if you haven't been reading my posts hopefully you'll still understand. I'm still keeping the emotional distance from my father's death that I need to surive.
He died this year on February 18, a couple of weeks before he died he went into one of his tantrum rants at me. Long story. So I took a chance and asked for an apology. He wound up the tirade with the usual, I don't have to apologize for anything I've done, I'm your dad and whatever I did to you I did because I love you, blahblahblah, yadda yadda yadda, a thing and a thing and a thing. All the usual razor edged excuses, except I'm numb so it's okay I guess. Funny how I can still shake thinking about it and feel hurt and angry and the rest of me is programmed to be indifferent.
Anyway, I went to fix dinner for him and my mom like a good girl. Mom was wiped out from him needing care, dying and all that. I set the table and wheeled him to it. I filled a plate and put it in front of him, then went to write a small note on a scrap of paper. I wrote all these years you hurt me again and again and now what hurts the most is that you're not even sorry that you hurt me.
It was really strange to see him hang his head and be real quiet for a minute or two, I kind of expected him to read it and calmly push it aside, he has those disdainful moves too. Then he looked up at me with eyes glassy with tears and said "I'm sorry Dodona." That was the childhood nickname he used for me, no one else ever called me that.
Sometimes I'm sorry he died soon after, I have these silly fantasies that things might have changed and if he'd lived long enough it would have been different but I know that's not true. He kind of went back to himself right after that moment. But for that one minute he really cared about me, it may not be what I wanted but it's better than nothing. He never did apologize to my mom but he was who he was. There is no point in anyone being sad about the way he was, he's gone and it's finally over for all of us.
I hope this made sense, I am a little befuddled and I just banged it out to post. I'm babysitting little Kamal for 4 days, this is day 2 and I'm already wiped out. It seems I'm always wishing for something, this week I wish toddlers napped more. Last night I kept wanting to go get her and bring her in bed with me so I'd know she was okay all night. I didn't rest all that well, I kept looking at the the monitor so I could see her in the crib. I think I'm as nervous a grandma as I was a mom. While I'm whining, my knees are a little achy hurt. I just can't keep up, laying around made me old.
Did I mention what a wonderful time I'm having? Did I mention how good it is to be so loved? her little face lights up when I go get her from her nap, she laughs out loud when I sing. Well, it is. Gotta run, kitchens a mess and the nap will be over soon. Apologies in advance if I don't respond.