Embracing My Relationship With My Long Deceased Father
Storyteller, Gloria Piper Roberson, wrote nine monologues about relationships with fathers, and recruited readers from elementary school to retirement age to share them at our church’s Father’s Day service. Her words fit my relationship with my father, so she graciously encouraged me to rewrite it. I embraced him more lovingly in the process, even though he died when I was nineteen.
Here’s my story.
My dad was a shot-put district champion and college wrestler who towered over me at 6’ 4”, and 225 pounds. But he died after leukemia ravaged his body into a helpless 90 pounds. Even as he was dying, I pushed him away, rejecting his manhood, while I searched for mine. Consequently, my relationship with him is a vast, mostly empty, space inside. I wish the void had more of his great stories, like fighting Chinese bandits; and a friendship nurtured over fifty years of Father’s Days.
He shared little about his faith, even though he spent his last two days at home listening over and over to Just a closer walk with Thee, grant it, Jesus is my plea.
I treasure his stories, especially his last. He promised my sister he’d live long enough to give her away on her wedding day. He made it, but spoke from a wheelchair in the back of the chapel so no one saw his gaunt condition. Immediately afterward, everyone headed for the reception while Dad headed back to the hospital in an ambulance. He’d conquered his toughest challenge, but sat alone, strapped in a wheelchair, exhausted from the struggle, and confronted by grim surrender.
At that moment, the driver, a stranger I deeply appreciated all these years, asked, “What do you think Mr. Russell, should we turn on the siren?”
“Yes,” said Dad, who was a Fire Commissioner and knew sirens were forbidden except in emergencies.
He told family and nurses that last story, chuckling about cars scattered on the side of the road as he triumphantly passed through.
Of course he never embraced Karen, our children, or their children. Or me, for example when I was inducted into my college’s athletic Hall of Fame.
Honestly, I never embraced him. Somewhere, I hope we’ll have a closer walk and embrace each other. I’ll tell him, “I love you, Dad.”
Several readers shared our experiences. A man said his dialogue matched his relationship with his father whom he hadn’t talked to in years, and admitted he had forgiven him to heal himself. A mother was moved to tears because her monologue fit her wonderful relationship with her father. Amazingly, Roberson wrote the nine scripts based on her relationship with her father during nine stages of her life.
Other people thanking us convinced me that we all have powerful emotions about our fathers. Father’s Day should be about honoring our relationships because we honor the person we are in the process. Just as our fathers gave birth to us, that relationship gives life to who we are.
Here’s my story.
My dad was a shot-put district champion and college wrestler who towered over me at 6’ 4”, and 225 pounds. But he died after leukemia ravaged his body into a helpless 90 pounds. Even as he was dying, I pushed him away, rejecting his manhood, while I searched for mine. Consequently, my relationship with him is a vast, mostly empty, space inside. I wish the void had more of his great stories, like fighting Chinese bandits; and a friendship nurtured over fifty years of Father’s Days.
He shared little about his faith, even though he spent his last two days at home listening over and over to Just a closer walk with Thee, grant it, Jesus is my plea.
I treasure his stories, especially his last. He promised my sister he’d live long enough to give her away on her wedding day. He made it, but spoke from a wheelchair in the back of the chapel so no one saw his gaunt condition. Immediately afterward, everyone headed for the reception while Dad headed back to the hospital in an ambulance. He’d conquered his toughest challenge, but sat alone, strapped in a wheelchair, exhausted from the struggle, and confronted by grim surrender.
At that moment, the driver, a stranger I deeply appreciated all these years, asked, “What do you think Mr. Russell, should we turn on the siren?”
“Yes,” said Dad, who was a Fire Commissioner and knew sirens were forbidden except in emergencies.
He told family and nurses that last story, chuckling about cars scattered on the side of the road as he triumphantly passed through.
Of course he never embraced Karen, our children, or their children. Or me, for example when I was inducted into my college’s athletic Hall of Fame.
Honestly, I never embraced him. Somewhere, I hope we’ll have a closer walk and embrace each other. I’ll tell him, “I love you, Dad.”
Several readers shared our experiences. A man said his dialogue matched his relationship with his father whom he hadn’t talked to in years, and admitted he had forgiven him to heal himself. A mother was moved to tears because her monologue fit her wonderful relationship with her father. Amazingly, Roberson wrote the nine scripts based on her relationship with her father during nine stages of her life.
Other people thanking us convinced me that we all have powerful emotions about our fathers. Father’s Day should be about honoring our relationships because we honor the person we are in the process. Just as our fathers gave birth to us, that relationship gives life to who we are.
Posted by JSR at 6/25/2009 6:30 PM 
Categories: Death and Dying,Relatives
Tags: Father Paternity Father's Day
Categories: Death and Dying,Relatives
Tags: Father Paternity Father's Day
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