Monday, May 15, 2006

Open Letter to Anonymous:

I wish to apologise for an action, you may not recall. A few days ago, we were speaking at our mutual community’s chatter; and you mentioned in passing that you did not get along with your father. I do not presume to know what that entails, but I felt that I did not respond in a thoughtful manner, or properly acknowledge your thought. Regardless of my current loss, I strive to conquer my innate selfishness. I have given this some thought and wish to offer a suggestion:

If it is not impossibility; go on a road trip with your father. You may argue the whole way, but if you both stick it out; you may find that one shared moment of beauty that can give you both strength. The strength that only family can offer.

My mother was not the easiest person in the world to love. She was pleasant and funny as well as strong and stubborn, on the outside. She could, however, be bitter and inexplicable on the inside. Part of the reason that I moved to Minneapolis for ten years was that I could be away from her (This is a realisation that I’ve acknowledged for some time.). The lion’s share of the reason that I moved back was the realisation that her achievements and struggles were worthy, in their own right and I had to acknowledge her in the time that we had left.
I can only begin to imagine the pit of despair that I would be in, now, if I had stayed away and become a bum, celebrated artist or factory loser, down in Minneapolis.

As I said, earlier, I do not presume to know what level of relationship that you share with your father, but: If it’s not impossible, do something together, for no reasons other than: to be together, without a TV, alone, for a period of time.
Even if it just overnight, in an RV, in some cheesy state park. Set some ground rules, like: both of you have to stay, and agree not to fight, etcetera.
Listen to public radio.
Argue over politics.
Get a little drunk.
Watch a sunset.
Fish from a dock.
Say you are sorry, once (so make it count).
Find the person, inside him, if you can.

That is my prayer. That is my unfulfilled fantasy. I only got a taste of that with my mother.
I am so... in need, of knowing my father and hope to make shared experience with him an even larger part of my mind.
I was only beginning to know my mother and feel the loss, all the more.

Me, me, me, me, me again.

:Reason Butcher


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