Thoughts on my father

This morning while I was having breakfast with my Dad, the phone rang, as it often did while we were at the table. More often than not, it would be my mother calling to ask about this matter or that, to talk about her day, gloat about her little successes. I’ve always been annoyed at her timing - it just had to be at breakfast, lunch or dinner. She would talk endlessly and expect the person on the other end of the line to listen. 

I never had the patience for my Mom. I’m ashamed to admit that sometimes, I wouldn’t even pick up. But I recently began to notice that not once have I heard my father complain about her calling at the wrong time. He always, always let her talk on the other end. Somehow, whether he was really listening or not becomes irrelevant. All people really need is someone to talk to, anyhow.

It makes me wonder how many times I’d called my Dad at the wrong time. I imagine him patiently listening at the other end of the line, his cereal turning soggy and his steak getting cold. In this age of cell phones and e-mail, we’re all so impatient. We want people to answer our calls whenever we need them, and we enjoy the luxury of being able to say “I’ll call you back in a minute” when they need us, because well, everyone’s in a hurry, including me.

My Dad is a living example of a quote I read when I was younger:

The hardest of all is learning to be a well of affection, and not a fountain, to show them that we love them, not when we feel like it, but when they do.

- Nan Fairbrother

I hope someday I get to repay my Dad for the most important lesson he could ever teach and for the way he taught it - that love is a choice and not a mood, uneasy, and for the ones we love, we can always choose to be better. 

Brave

Last night, I had an unusual dream that could have been an extension of my real life, only with the drama turned up a few notches higher. There’s something about myself that I’ve had a hate-hate relationship with, and up until today I feel a little defeated to admit that it’s still something I am struggling with. Jealousy. Like a bad dream I try to run away from but can’t help but have every time I sleep, it creeps into my emotions, an unwanted yet inevitable mistake. It turns me into a monster that forgets to trust and forgets to love.

I have become so scared of this monster in me that I now avoid all situations that may make me feel jealous of anyone or anything. And when the situation arises and I have to face it, I wait in fearful anticipation for the wave to pass, and sometimes, like now, have bad dreams that don’t help the waiting.

I realize I’m adding mistake upon mistake. It’s wrong to be jealous when one is so loved, and it is an even bigger mistake to not try to understand and free myself from the trap. My fears are many, but running away from them will only leave me tired and breathless, always looking over my shoulder for the iron to strike, always imagining myself a monster. The worst thing that could happen would be this: losing faith in myself and in relationships.

I think I might have to actively put myself in situations that will challenge me to face my demons. I’m afraid of what I will see, what I will experience, how much it will hurt me, how some things might feed instead of starve my jealousy. It scares me like hell, but I have to allow myself to grow up and realize that I can get over my fears. I need to give myself a chance to be brave.