Facing a Ghost

Many, if not most, people have some kind of emotional baggage.

Mine derives from my father. I use the term loosely. (Freud licks the lead of his pencil and begins taking notes)

My life isn't a Greek tragedy. In fact by most accounts, I would say it is pretty good. There hasn't been any incest, affairs to speak of, or conspiracy to murder in the pursuit of gaining power or anything quite as plotted as Hamlet.

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My family is pretty close and while we have our fair share of drama, we are still family and "relatively" close (pardon the pun). However when it comes to my so-called-father, it is a different story.

He is an alcoholic. He is no more than a worthless bum to me.

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Many marriages end for many different reasons. Some grow apart, some fall out of love, some aren't capable of being responsible financially or emotionally, etc... but parents are still obligated to be parents.

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My "father" didn't. As far as I am concerned, drinking was too important; his friends were more important; not being accountable, responsible, mature or dealing with anything was more important. Keeping a job was apparently an impossible feat. Providing for his family was even more of an unfeasible exploit. And despite the marriage failed due to his obvious flaws, one might think his children would hold some sobriety in his soul.... but they would be mistaken.

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I have dealt with fury, anger, vengeance, rejection, insecurity and loss; not just for myself but for my brother and sister who I also saw dealing with the same sense of rejection and insecurity. For a long time, everything that went wrong in my life was his fault. If I failed a test, it was his fault I was stupid because he was drunk when I was conceived. If I got in trouble, it was his fault because.... it didn't matter, some how it was his fault.

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Then I finally realized that by saying that, it prevented me from controlling my own life. I was not being responsible for my own life or my own decisions. If everything was his fault, I saw only negative and not the positive. I decided to live my own life and except whatever My Consequences are, good or bad. He became Dead to me.

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For many years I couldn't even say the word "forgiveness" in the same sentence with his name. In fact, I couldn't even say his name or think about it without becoming enraged. But with him "dead to me", it wasn't something I needed to worry about. Periodically, the topic of my father would get brought up and I was encouraged to forgive. I thought about it and found it impossible. After all he had done to me, my siblings, my mother, my family ...."Hell No!" He didn't deserve it.

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One day someone mentioned forgiveness again. They talked about what it meant, how vengeance is the Lord's and how withholding it condemn us. I was certainly not going to be condemned because of him. But how do I forgive when I can barely say his name without spitting? They explained that forgiveness doesn't mean that we have to have a picnic and make balloon animals or anything out of a Rockwell painting, but instead I just don't wish harm upon him. It took some time but I finally quit hoping an anvil would fall from the sky...

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I have been able to say "I forgive him" for a while now without spitting or going into spasms, which is quite an improvement. I guess what I am thinking is that I don't wish him harm, which is how I can get it out with a straight face.

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It has been many many years since I have seen him. I have no intention calling him up and sitting down to coffee for a long overdue father-daughter chat. As far as I am concerned he was still dead to me and it wasn't necessary to get in touch.

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The day after Thanksgiving, my mom, brother, nephew and I went to my aunt's house to see my father's side of the family. My grandmother was there and an Uncle and Aunt I hadn't seen in several years. As we pull up, my brother says that "dad" (that is what he calls him) is there. I start screaming! "NO!!!! NOOO!!!!! I don't want to do this! I can't do this!!! NO! NOOO!!!" I felt frozen and scared! I felt bombarded with all different kinds of nightmarish emotions! What was I going to do? How can I get out of this?? What could I do?

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I made my way slowly in the house, careful to enter each room. I said hello to each person, keeping an eye out for this ghost that haunted me. I saw a figure enter the back door and blurted that I had to go to the bathroom before dashing down the hallway. I locked myself in the lue for some 20 minutes. I cried, attempted giving myself a pep talk, breathed deeply, felt nauseous, and finally, with shaky hands, turned the knob to make the journey back into the house. I crept slowly down the hallway and turned, standing in the archway of the living room, inspected each face before bravely stepping into the dimly light room. I made my way over to the corner of the couch and tucked myself into the darkened corner. I pulled the throw pillows over me and clutched them tightly while nervously playing with the tassels. My Aunt and I chatted while I kept a watchful eye on the archways, contemplating my escape route.

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Soon it was time to take my nephew home and my mom and brother were shortly out the door, leaving me behind. I quickly said goodbye to everyone attempting a hug for most of them closest to me, then took to flight out the door, slamming it behind me and ran the rest of the way down the driveway.

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It was over. The ghost was behind me. With nothing more for me to do than sort out my feelings, I pondered on why was I such a wreck? After all I had prayed and the progress I had made, why was I so distraught at the idea of coming face to face with the ghost? More so, I asked why was I expected to be civil and play nice with someone who had not shown me any empathy?

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All I can come up with is "Baby Steps". Slow progress. I still have some growing to do, I admit. Maybe in time, who knows. But for the time being, I don't like seeing ghosts and just assume not going through that again. I am comfortable where I am now and the Lord will prepare me for when the time is right. ---(to be continued???)---?