Still Fighting It

              I think I can say with confidence and some regret that I was a spoiled child for much of my upbringing. I was born an only child- son of a Navy man and an English woman. We moved around for most of the first ten years of my life. We tried life over in England during my 7th grade year, and before my dad could tie up loose ends in the states, it was decided that we would return back to Florida to continue our life in Jacksonville. I was indifferent about the decision at the time. I liked being the odd kid from the US while I was in school over there, but I also missed my friends back home.
              My father's life ended when I was 17, a senior in High School. His passing was abrupt. Heart attack in the middle of the day. No goodbyes. Not to his family or the people around him when it happened. It was quick. His tongue had swollen, leaving no breath to pass through his mouth to say any final words. During the time of his passing, our relationship was near the bottom of another one of the valleys in our relationship. Without going into too much detail, he had some drinking problems that drastically changed my opinion of him when I was in elementary school. The relationship never really recovered and then on December 3rd of 1992, the day before his birthday, he died.
            It took me a long time to mourn him. If I was honest to people back then about it (and I wasn't for the most part), the stress in my life had dropped considerably since he passed. I felt bad for those around me who missed him, but I wasn't one of those people. I would simply reflect on the reasons I did not like him and resented him growing up. That seemed to move me past any sort of grieving I might experience. I think part of why I was so confident as to why I was justified in my position was that our relationship was the way it was because of him and his drinking. I still believe that to this day. The thing is though, if you live long enough, you tend to find that life can be difficult...and not just for you. I think I have learned more about my father since his death than I did while he was alive. I learned a great deal about the life he had before he became, "James Newton, Father".
           

                                                 My dad and I, sledding in Rhode Island

        When I met Karen and we started dating, she met my mother and step-father not long after. My mother is half of who I am. So, as with most people, you want anyone you might end up with to meet your family. While my mother is half of who I am, I don't think anyone would tell you that the personality you see from me in public is very much like hers. We are alike in many ways, just not in this area. I, like it or not (and am reminded often by the remaining family that knew my father) have his personality. The relationships I have with those around me are guided by much of the personality that I inherited from him. I am thankful, but jealous at times when Harper is around Karen's parents. Harper is seeing who her mother is through these two people. As I am able to see both of Karen's parents in Karen, I am certain Harper is able to see the similar traits as well.
           When Harper was born, I was overwhelmed. Not sure I can explain each feeling that was present at that time, but I remember holding her, looking at Karen and feeling the excitement of going to get the rest of the family to come in and meet her. Seeing their reactions was something I was really looking forward to. That was one of the first times I can say I really missed my father. He was supposed to be there for that. He was supposed to love Harper more than he loved me.

            That has been part of what is difficult about this cancer thing. Harper will always have pictures, videos, stories, and such to plug in holes of the story she is making out of me. But my personality? That's something that is harder to come by. Either directly from the encounters she might remember from me. Then if not me, it should be my father. But as life would present this situation, we both may not be here to leave that mark on her life.

             I guess what I am saying is that relationships with those who have passed are still relationships. As I mentioned, I've learned more about my dad since he died, than while he was alive. And in doing so, It changes the way I view the man he was then, and now. So in a sense, he is still alive. He is changing in my perception, which in many ways, changes me. I think every parent wants a chance to tell their story or to their children. This verse from a Ben Folds song seemed applicable: "Good morning, son
In twenty years from now
Maybe we'll both sit down and have a few beers
And I can tell you 'bout today
And how I picked you up and everything changed
It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you'd feel the same things"

            I'm thankful for the person I've been able to become because of many of the good and bad things I saw my father experience. I'm thankful that I see him in me. I'm thankful that I'm not handcuffed by many of the things in life that held him back from being the person I believe he could've been. I'm sad that we never had that conversation of reflection as adults. I'm thankful that my life wasn't taken in a split second where I would've left things unsaid to Harper. Regardless of how long my life will be, if I need to savor every drop of this imaginary tea. Cancer's gift for the day is the time it has given me, that a heart attack did not give my dad to have his drink with me, and his granddaughter.

 "I picked you up and everything changed" - Ben Folds

With love,

Brian