It wasn't too long ago I got a call from my sister. She doesn't call often or at least she claims not to have the time. And she didn't waste time getting started this night and told me straight away that our father has cancer (cancer of the prostate). Well, we're no strangers to the cancer round here. Grandma, Aunt Dee, Ray, Lisa's' mom Kathy. The list goes on no doubt. Most people have been touched by cancer in one way or another.
I don't remember being shocked in any way for some reason... maybe we just come to expect bad things are going to happen and happen to people that we love or are otherwise estranged. It's only been 16 years since I had seen or heard from the guy. I remember it as clear as yesterday. Taylor was only 6mo. old and he had come to visit over the holidays and that was the last I heard from him. Of course, since that time my sister was on some mission to mend fences with ghosts from her past which included her father, Barry Young Sr. Of course, that's a whole other Ricki Lake in itself and I'll save that for a later date.
I had always toyed with the idea of contacting him, but never gave it enough thought or time as I felt he never did. Time got the best of me. We get older, have kids, see the tolls paid and realize my own mortality one fall afternoon. Still failing to act on my instincts to contact him life changes are rapidly taking shape and my mood is somber.
On a train back from the city one night I broke out the Blackberry to do the equivalent of a drink and dial. Using the email address my sister had given me I proceeded to send an email to the father that hadn't given me the time of day for the last 16 years. Which goes to show you old habits don't have to die hard. Honestly, I was fully capable (mentally) of letting all of this go, but something inside wouldn't let me. Not now.
Hi dad
| Barry Young <XXXXXXXX@gmail.com> | Sun, Jan 11, 2009 at 1:23 AM | |
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As you can see there wasn't a lot to this, but it was my olive branch and probably the only one. I don't want him to die or me to die knowing that I didn't at least try. That mortality thing. Although, I don't know if I'm ok with it either if the outcome isn't favorable.
Hi dad
| barry XXXXXXX3@satx.rr.com> | Sun, Jan 18, 2009 at 10:12 AM | |
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To: Barry Young <XXXXXX@gmail.com>
| ||
Some would say there isn't much to that either after 16 years of being absent. My sister would heartily disagree. Communication isn't his strong suit even after 20+ years as a Naval Officer. My dingy mood continues and is only perpetuated by this situation, but is merely an underlying factor. I'm not sure how this continues or ends or the result I'm looking to achieve. And it's probably just enough for me to know that I'm not my father's father or my father and Taylor and London and Violet will never have to find themselves sitting on a train some night deciding whether or not. At the end of the day much doesn't changed and mostly stays the same. Stings' Ghost Story sums it up thou | ||
I watch the Western sky
The sun is sinking
The geese are flying South
It sets me thinking
I did not miss you much
I did not suffer
What did not kill me
Just made me tougher
I feel the winter come
His icy sinews
Now in the fire light
The case continues
Another night in court
The same old trial
The same old questions asked
The same denial
The shadows closely run
Like jury members
I look for answers in
The fire's embers
Why was I missing then
That whole December
I give my usual lie:
I don't remember
Another winter comes
His icy fingers creep
Into these bones of mine
These memories never sleep
And all these differences
A cloak I borrow
We kept our distances
Why should it follow I must have loved you
What is the force that binds the stars
I wore this mask to hide my scars
What is the power that pulls the tide
I never could find a place to hide
What moves the Earth around the sun
What could I do but run and run and run
Afraid to love, afraid to fail
A mast without a sail
The moon's a fingernail and slowly sinking
Another day begins and now I'm thinking
That this indifference was my invention
When everything I did sought your attention
You were my compass star
You were my measure
You were a pirate's map
A buried treasure
If this was all correct
The last thing I'd expect
The prosecution rests
It's time that I confess: I must have loved you
