The PHOTO

by Terry 24 Replies latest jw friends

  • Terry
    Terry

    When my mom died I couldn't cry.

    She had had cancer before and had beaten it. You brace yourself. You wait.

    But, she recovered and life went on. You relax again.

    Three times.

    The last time it go her and all those long moments of bracing yourself seem to slam something shut that won't open again.

    What really hurt the most was the death of a childhood wish that would now never ---ever--come true.

    You see, all I had wanted when I was a kid was to have a mother and a father in the same room at the same time!

    Yes. Simple as that.

    But, my dad had divorced my mom when I was not quite a year old.

    I had not a single memory of them together!

    When I turned 25 I woke up one day with the startling urge to find my father and SEE HIM with my own eyes.

    If I could, the ridiculous notion crossed my mind: I can get them into the same space at the same time and ME WITH THEM!

    This was my dream. Naive and pointless, really.

    Yet, I acted on it.

    I found him!

    He was living in Detroit, Michigan. I had been born there and my mom hated living in that city. She flew back to Fort Worth. It was her home town.

    My dad quit his job at General Motors and took a pathetic job in Texas making almost nothing.

    They lasted half a year and it was over!

    I grew up fatherless and troubled. I was shy and had an awful inferiority complex.

    Other boys had a dad who taught them sports. I knew none of that.

    I was just a Nerd. Smart and sort of soft around the edges you might say.

    The dream was always the same: My Mom and My Dad standing in the same room with me!

    That would be the miracle. It would CURE EVERYTHING like a magic bullet.

    But, my Dad, as I found him in Detroit, was living with his second wife and family. I had a half brother and half sister. They all had their own world.

    None of them even knew I had existed! I may as well have been a meteor that one day tore a hole in their roof to let in the rain!

    After a week of strained hospitality I found my way back to Texas.

    My mother was furious with me when I told her!!

    Who can explain such things? I couldn't.

    So, the years put more and more distance between all of us until that day my mother died and even the craziest idea had to be buried too!

    The hole in my soul remained.

    Then, a letter came one day.

    It was a sudden sort of intrusion with me not having any contact with him since that week in 1972.

    The return address was the same house I had once lived in as an infant in my mother's arms and the place where I had stood looking at my

    father's face as a 25 year old young man.

    You won't understand me when I tell you I did NOT OPEN this letter. No.

    I did not want to read what he had to say.

    Call it spite. Call it fear. Call it anything you want to say. I simply wanted the POWER to refuse to allow it into my head.

    My guess was that now--at some point in my Dad's life--he was old and sick and maybe was about to die and now he NEEDED to say something to me.

    He was reaching out to me. OUT OF HIS NEED and not mine.

    Well, no thank you.

    It sounds very immature and even evil when I write these words. But, I still understand why I didn't open his letter.

    A couple of years later my Aunt Shirley (my dad's sister) wrote to say he had died.

    I didn't feel anything at first.

    Then, what I felt was that renewed sense of loss that reminded me of my dream. I would NEVER have my mom and dad and myself in the same room at the same time.

    That silly and annoying thought!!

    A few hours ago I was trying to make room in my closet. Time to throw things away. Sort through this and that.

    What would I use and what would I toss in the trash?

    The letter fell out of an old book.

    My dad's last letter (and his first--now that I think about it) to me.

    The UNopened letter.

    The letter I had refused to read.

    I impulsively tore it open.

    It wasn't a letter. It was a small photo wrapped in notebook paper.

    The photo had my father standing rather proudly next to my young 22 year old mother who was about 9 months pregnant with child: me!

    A photo of a dream.

    An impossible dream.

    I hardly know what to say about the feelings.

    I started crying almost hysterically.......but....with a happiness I've never known before.

    I just wanted to tell you about it before the moment had passed.

    I now have it framed on my bedroom wall.

    I keep staring at it. With...so much.....JOY!

  • rip van winkle
    rip van winkle

    It was a Gift, a perfect one, opened at the right time, Terry!

  • trebor
    trebor

    That was beautiful Terry - At least the ending.

    Glad you had a dream come true, if not in the exact way you expected.

    I'm happy for you.

  • The Searcher
    The Searcher

    Thank you Terry; I wish you more love and peace than you ever dreamed of having!

  • perfect1
  • Terry
    Terry

    My father, in the photo, is shirtless and casual with a proud smile. I imagine it to be a warm day outside. My mother has very long black hair worn up and tied behind her neck. The dress is vertical stripes and her baby bump (me!) could not have been all that comfortable.

    Looking in the wrong end of a telescope and seeing--not the heavens or the universe--but, the past and the beginning of....well, me--is an unutterable emotion.

    I want to walk up to this couple and say something important to them like one of those movies where anything is possible.

    "Hey--you don't know me. You won't for a long, long time. But, I know something you don't. If you just listen to it--it could mean real happiness.

    Or, if not that, the genuine possibility of it....instead of what you're definitely going to have: failure and....god knows what else to call it.."

    No, that wouldn't work.

    This couple thinks everything is possible already.

    You marry and you have a baby--what could be simpler than that?

    But, my mom could not live in Detroit where my father had a really good job making an above average wage.

    She needed him to quit that job. She needed him to go back to Texas (where they had met).

    He couldn't live on nothing--a non-living wage.

    The dreams didn't match at all!

    And I---the bump---the after story was collateral damage.

    It's weird to see them---all of us--at the starting block ready for the race of life. Every potential happiness is there!

    None of the failure visible.

    Now I think the whole Jehovah as my father business was almost a destiny of longing.

    I got a surrogate family of "brothers and sisters" and plenty of instruction of how to "fit in" and fill my role.

    But--that was even more doomed to failure.

    At least the three people in the photo have a genuine moment of reality where time stands still and the dreams of the future are possible.

    In my "Jehovah" family the whole thing is a sad little dream. There will never be more than an artist's rendering of that lion and lamb paradise.

    I look at my mom and my dad and me (baby bump) and see some real people about step forward into a time and a place where the crisis will be

    one of nature's quirky jokes. A Yankee from Detroit and a southern girl from Texas would almost have to produce a kid that just doesn't fit anywhere, wouldn't they?

    And I haven't.

    All any of us can do is just TRY.

  • thinking_not_believing
    thinking_not_believing

    Thankyou for sharing your story! I hope the photo gives you a boost and a smile everytime you see it. :)

  • Finkelstein
    Finkelstein

    Touching story Terry thanks for sharing

    I think it hits on to many people who had to endure a broken family and trying to come to terms with that situation.

    It also makes one speculate if there are more people who went through the same unfortunate personal trials

    to land themselves inside the supposedly pre-arranged JW family.

    I too wish that in some meaningful way the picture of your parents and yourself together creates some contentment and happiness.

    Seems like your father did have some loving concern for what the separation had upon yourself all those years

  • King Solomon
    King Solomon

    And the sobering thought is that you now are probably twice their age in the pix, and hence it's likely you are more experienced about life than them... That's always sobering when I see pix of my parents in their 20's: I'm old enough to be their parents (if not grandparents)!

  • Band on the Run
    Band on the Run

    I always had this fantasy that my father would magicall turn into a nice human, who did not beat defenseless women, children, and dogs. For a long time, I believed if he were a better Witness, all would be so perfect. Even after his death, I dreamed of confronting him as an adult with somel world experience behind me. It would be something to view him through adult eyes.

    It was all a fantasy. Denial.

    Life is very painful sometimes.

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