2002-01-16 - 2:17 AM
Learn Something In Eighteen Easy Steps (Our Fathers)
The other night, whilst sitting in John's car, we had an interesting conversation, as we usually do.
The subject came up about our parents, the fear we had about the day they'd pass on. And then ultimately, we broke it down to our fathers - how despite our complaints and broken relationships with them, we'd cry uncontrollably when they leave us.
You see, fathers have different ways of expressing and showing their love and care for their children, or more specifically, their sons. In John's case, his father's way was to "shape him" into a respectable young man, knowledgeable of so many different things. Lock him in his room and keep him to his studies, tell him girls are a distraction, send him to flying lessons, make him run every morning (bright and early), never settle for anything less than exceptional. He didn't realize that it was more of a suffocation, burdens that would shackle John and send him running away to MY house. But his father meant well, always did - tried his best to give John what he never had, or perhaps never had the chance to do. But in the end, it's okay. You see, John'll be able to tell his children that he came from humble beginnings, that he was a product of a father that maybe cared too much, but nonetheless, cared enough. As it is generally known, with age comes understanding. It's sad, but it took me and John all these years to understand our fathers, and with the understanding, develop our sympathy and outright love for them.
My father showed his love for me different from John's. It was his yelling and hitting that was MY suffocation, but through those, came my understanding. He didn't yell at me, or hit me, just for the sake of acting out his stresses onto a predetermined scapegoat (well, maybe sometimes - thoughts of him smacking my head into the kitchen table, for reasons I've forgotten, come to my mind). It's more of like how it is, when a father would spank his child if they ran into the street without looking. Each hit was an "I love you"; yet the child would see it as an "I hate you". But because a father doesn't want to see their child getting hurt (ironically), and can't really express it through the actual words, the child gets spanked. "Never do that again! DO YOU HEAR ME?!" We never did it again because we feared what they might do to us - we should've realized their message, and not do it again to avoid being hurt. No self-respecting father would be apathetic when their child gets hurt. My father - he kicked down doors and screamed his might; he really didn't take any shit. As a child, all I saw was belligerence, all I saw was a violent man lashing out his aggressions on the wrong people, on us - on me. But as I said, with age comes understanding. I now know, that what I should've opened my eyes to, were the times when he told people/relatives to leave me out of their problems - as small as it may seem, THAT would show me all the care I needed to see. When my dad made me hold that God forsaken light while he fixed the car in the middle of the coldest nights, I saw it as punishment - a burden. He probably saw it as quality time with his son (silent, yet quality), and perhaps he was trying to prepare me for later on in life, when I'D need to take care of the family cars. In the end, I guess I should've seen it as he did.
And you know, it's sad how long it takes for understanding to come. Really, it is. John and I know this. So many years, and so much energy, wasted on hateful thoughts of our fathers. And for me, although I love my mom just as much, I kind of think that maybe I'd cry more so for my father, than I would my mother. Mostly because, no matter how much I love my father (maybe the same goes with John, I'm not quite sure), I doubt I'll ever conjur up enough courage to speak those same words he couldn't speak to me. And this very thing, could be one of the most tragic and prevalent situations in most father/son relationships nowadays, which is why I think it'd hurt me more to see my father go.
I mean, what's worse than not knowing if someone you love, actually KNOWS that you love them?
I guess, we all just have to keep in mind - that with age...comes understanding.
