When boys approach manhood, there are things which are better discussed or taught by another person of the male persuasion. Although YaYa was in no rush to remove the thin mustache which he has grown, there was something kind of cool about having BoBo show him how to shave.
I joked about having to cut my run short because I was signed up to take theMAN’s yoga class that afternoon. Exaggerating a bit, I described being held in yoga poses for torturously long periods of time. While it is true that theMAN has an affinity for the various warrior poses, many of the other yoga instructors also seem to be stringing the various warrior sequences into the flow — one after another after another.
Truth be told, my body was speaking to me. It was pointing out my irregular running pattern and I, being acutely aware of my current body’s limitation, was merely coming up with an excuse not to overdo it. I didn’t just want to run; I also wanted to roll out my mat with the intention of finding balance between the soft, soothing stretches and twists, to the fierce strength of the warrior sequences.
After a week of pulling together the arrangements for Dad’s service, I believe things are finally set. Today, there is no need to call the church office, quarrel over the readings for the mass, or determine which pictures are appropriate to use and which portray too much happiness (in his marriage to Mom). What’s more, there is no work to offer a distraction for me. It is Good Friday.
But it doesn’t feel good at all. [Read more…]
A good part of the past few days has been sifting through the old: photos, memories, etc. Unfortunately, the stuff that has been surfacing is a mixed bag — the result of 30 years of wondering if we even mattered to the man that we once called Daddy. Ultimately, the goal is to salvage any buried treasures and, hopefully, let go of the unwanted energies that have muddied our view of this man over the past many years.
And somewhere, under all of this rubble, is forgiveness. Each of us, must keep on searching until we find it.
I’m not sure how I was designated “the” person responsible for end of life arrangements: releasing the body from the medical examiner, signing for the disposition of Dad’s remains, coordinating the mass in his honor, and keeping the family informed. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.
I keep plugging away, doing the tasks at hand as best I am able, delegating what I can, then answering to why the task was delegated. And for those who want to help but aren’t able to take on the things I have the foresight to think of, I am left trying to make them feel better.
Meanwhile, my own needs are set aside.
When I finally decided that I needed to put my needs in front of all of the responsibility that I have inherited, the world blew up in protest. As soon as I parked in front of the entrance to the park, my phone rang. It was my dad’s significant other conveying the urgent need for my drivers license and the letters from me and my siblings to be faxed to the medical examiner.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Before I’d hung up from her, another call arrived. By the time I hung up, three text messages arrived. In an attempt to ward off rebellion, I did my best to attend to these as quickly as I could. Then, I declared that I needed an hour of “me time.”