Date: June 12, 1982
Age: 5
This place is very high in the mountains. Tomorrow I take a plane ride to a place where it is very hot. I will be home in 13 more days. I miss you.
Love, Daddy
A few nights ago, I dreamt that my father was flying to South America, and his plane crashed. It had been a big deal for him to get on a plane, considering his immune system was so compromised, and he would be breathing in recycled air and whatever bugs the other passengers were afflicted with. I could see the plane tear apart, inside and out--very graphic, but not gory. Whatever my father had been thinking or feeling is the part of the dream that left my memory almost immediately, and maybe that's for the best.
Then, I was sitting in my father's home office in the house where I grew up, which my mother sold in 1997. I called my brother, C, and before I could even speak, he excitedly told me about his plans to take our dad to the Vatican. That's when I told him our dad was dead.
As always in my dreams about him, my father looked as he did when he was in his late forties/early fifties. Clean-shaven, without the beard he's had since the mid-90s.
I'm not one to interpret dreams. My fear of flying, coupled with my dad's mortality always at the forefront of my mind, brought this one on. Who the hell knows how the Vatican played into it. As for other dreams I've recently had: I know my reccurring one about my teeth falling out is a classic stress dream that many people experience, but beyond that, I really can't explain why, in my sleep, I've been having romantic and sexual interludes with the least attractive men from Top Chef.
What's more intriguing is that a few days after this dream about my dad's failed travels, he emails my brothers and I to tell us he and H are taking the Auto Train to Washington, and from there driving to Arkansas, back to the multiple myeloma clinic.
He's in DC for a meeting. I emailed back to get details about the rest, knowing I stand little chance reaching him by cell phone, since he always has it turned off. He called me, but unfortunately I missed it. His message said that there may be a new treatment he can do in Arkansas, but he was also going to retrieve some of his stem cells, which he said the clinic is "holding hostage." He said he'd try calling me again.
Should he start on a new treatment, he could potentially be in Arkansas for weeks. I guess my brothers and I should try to visit, considering the bullshit guilt trip he tried to lay on us in the Spring.
I realized the other day that this is the first time in my life that everyone in my immediate family lives in a different state: C in New York, B in Pennsylvania, my mom in Delaware, my dad in Florida, my grandmother in Ohio, and I'm in North Carolina. I feel strangely detached from all of them right now--I've only spoken to them all once or twice since I moved here, minus my mother. Even the contact I've been having with her, however, ebbs and flows. I realize I'm sort of doing the same thing my dad has been doing to my brothers and I all this time--keeping people at arm's length, and giving them updates about my life on my terms. It's foolish of me to take for granted that we will come together in one formation or another, and downright morbid that I may be relying on my father's health to be my reason for reuniting with my brothers.
I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but B once told me that in his role as a dad, he'll often think of how our dad would have handled a situation, and so then he does the exact opposite. He's a pretty goddamn stellar father to his kids, too. While I've enjoyed having some separation from my family, I think I should take a cue from B and do the opposite of what we've experienced, and pick up the phone.
Then, I was sitting in my father's home office in the house where I grew up, which my mother sold in 1997. I called my brother, C, and before I could even speak, he excitedly told me about his plans to take our dad to the Vatican. That's when I told him our dad was dead.
As always in my dreams about him, my father looked as he did when he was in his late forties/early fifties. Clean-shaven, without the beard he's had since the mid-90s.
I'm not one to interpret dreams. My fear of flying, coupled with my dad's mortality always at the forefront of my mind, brought this one on. Who the hell knows how the Vatican played into it. As for other dreams I've recently had: I know my reccurring one about my teeth falling out is a classic stress dream that many people experience, but beyond that, I really can't explain why, in my sleep, I've been having romantic and sexual interludes with the least attractive men from Top Chef.
What's more intriguing is that a few days after this dream about my dad's failed travels, he emails my brothers and I to tell us he and H are taking the Auto Train to Washington, and from there driving to Arkansas, back to the multiple myeloma clinic.
He's in DC for a meeting. I emailed back to get details about the rest, knowing I stand little chance reaching him by cell phone, since he always has it turned off. He called me, but unfortunately I missed it. His message said that there may be a new treatment he can do in Arkansas, but he was also going to retrieve some of his stem cells, which he said the clinic is "holding hostage." He said he'd try calling me again.
Should he start on a new treatment, he could potentially be in Arkansas for weeks. I guess my brothers and I should try to visit, considering the bullshit guilt trip he tried to lay on us in the Spring.
I realized the other day that this is the first time in my life that everyone in my immediate family lives in a different state: C in New York, B in Pennsylvania, my mom in Delaware, my dad in Florida, my grandmother in Ohio, and I'm in North Carolina. I feel strangely detached from all of them right now--I've only spoken to them all once or twice since I moved here, minus my mother. Even the contact I've been having with her, however, ebbs and flows. I realize I'm sort of doing the same thing my dad has been doing to my brothers and I all this time--keeping people at arm's length, and giving them updates about my life on my terms. It's foolish of me to take for granted that we will come together in one formation or another, and downright morbid that I may be relying on my father's health to be my reason for reuniting with my brothers.
I can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but B once told me that in his role as a dad, he'll often think of how our dad would have handled a situation, and so then he does the exact opposite. He's a pretty goddamn stellar father to his kids, too. While I've enjoyed having some separation from my family, I think I should take a cue from B and do the opposite of what we've experienced, and pick up the phone.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment