My Voice and My Dad
by Elouise
When I began blogging over three years ago I was terrified. I’d carried family secrets around with me for nearly 70 years. My Dad died in 2010. Over ten years before he died I confronted him about his harsh treatment of me as a child and teenager.
Yet I still had things I needed to say, in writing. Publicly. To him and to anyone else who cared to listen.
Here’s an excerpt from a post I published on 27 January 2015. That was one year after I began blogging, nearly 5 years after Dad died at age 96. I’d begun posting Dear Dad letters from time to time, even though it felt awkward.
I’m surprised at feelings I’ve had since I began writing Dear Dad letters. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m trying to get something from Dad that he can’t give me. I don’t think I am. I definitely feel I’m ‘out there,’ in the driver’s seat without a finished roadmap, uncertain where this will lead.
Most surprising, though, has been a sense of relief. Not because I know what I’m doing, but because I know I need something for myself. Something I can receive only by speaking to him about the very subject he wasn’t always interested in hearing about—me, his first-born child, female. . . .
These Dear Dad letters feel right because I’m my father’s daughter. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not expecting anything from him. Simply put, I need to be present to Dad in a way I’ve never been present to him before.
I’d describe it as barging right in and announcing my presence. Not rudely, but confidently. Interrupting Dad was a big no-no when I was a child. Knock before entering; enter only if permission is granted. Dad is very busy right now in his study. Don’t disturb unless absolutely necessary!
But he’s my Dad! I’m allowed! No explanations needed. No big crisis. No requests to make things better. No great accomplishments or failings to report. And no clear strategy or plan about why I’m here just now, why he’s the one with whom I need to speak, or what I’m going to say next. I just know I need to be here.
This strikes me now as it did then—the language of a mature, responsible adult woman. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now what Dad would think of this.
After all, he’s my Dad and I’m entitled to be with him and say things to him at any time. Whether he’s living or not.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 June 2017
Image found at skitguys.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Relieved
I haven’t read your blogs for a long time, though I do enjoy them. I opened this one for I saw it was a dear dad letter. What came to my mind was how hard it much have been for your as a child to have to go through such rig-a-ma-row to get to speak with your dad, even though you might not have anything to say. What a blessing to know that our heavenly Father has an open door policy and that we can just go in any time, day or night, jump into His lap and enjoy His presence. We can share our deepest secrets with Him or just put our head on His chest and hear His heart beat – I love YOU, I love YOU, Eloise. May you know the joy of being in His presence today.
Your cousin Janie
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Dear Cousin Janie,
I love hearing from you! Thanks for your kind comments and for leaving this wonderful encouragement. I think about you frequently, and pray you’re in good spirits. I did a little series on Forgiveness recently–during Lent. It was focused on forgiving Dad. If you haven’t seen it, let me know and I’ll send you a link to the first of the four. It was a good exercise for me because it helped me sort out his responsibility and my responsibility, and find a way of approaching how to forgive what we cannot forget or make right.
Your comments made me smile. Yes, Dad was busy a lot in his study, getting ready for the next sermon or Bible study, or weeping as he prayed to God for mercy. It was so sad to me. I’ve often wondered whether he had a personal relationship with his own father that went beyond punishment. We had fun with Dad from time to time, yet it was always (for me) tempered with the reality that I had to mind my p’s and q’s or I’d find myself on the wrong end of things.
Love and hugs to you and Cousin Dennis.
Elouise
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Are you writing to your Dad or are you actually writing to yourself!
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I’m definitely writing for (not to) myself. I didn’t have opportunities to have heart to heart talks with Dad. As an adult, I spoke from my heart to him as often as possible after the meeting in which I told him I didn’t deserve to be treated by him as I was. I found a way to be an adult with him. He wasn’t able to reciprocate. So the letters were written from my heart to his. Does he know what I wrote? I don’t know. I do know these Dear Dad letters paved the way for me to move forward in my relationship with him and with myself as the adult woman I am.
Thanks for the great question.
Elouise
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I should think that having dad to live with until he was 96 must have felt extra daunting. I mean, he must have done something amazing to live that long, right?
On the other hand, maybe God was giving him extra time to make it right with you, because He knew how much your dad would regret what he had done, with the benefit of hindsight, from a different place / slightly higher perspective. …
It’s good to achieve clarity, whatever our age, and wherever we are going. Bless you, Elouise. ((xx))
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Thanks for this lovely comment. Dad was definitely a survivor, though he was also tormented with shame. I love your suggestion in the second paragraph. I don’t find it strange to hope that even now he might gain a better perspective on me and on himself. Hope does spring eternal! 😊💜💕
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a most excellent post E, you always have a knack for getting down to the nuts and bolts of things and why it is of such importance to you, a mature account for sure, you’ve grown so much and its sad that your childhood and teens into adult had to be that way relationship wise with him, i’ve learned we can never change people, but we can change our views and how we carry the burden of it on ourselves, freeing the weight and being in tune with our own needs, without a happy me, there is no happy we, etc…<3 your painting is complete, just need to go get a copy of it for myself tomorrow but the original will be sent your way as soon as that is done ❤ I hope you like it, I will do a blog on it after you receive yours….surprises are fun ❤
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Kim, Thank you for this comment–as one who has read most of my posts. Everything you say about what you’ve learned from life is where I’m headed. I never dreamed I would be where I am today. And I can’t believe the painting is complete! I can’t wait to see it–of course. Rest assured I will love it–every bit of it created by you! 🙂 And yes, surprises are great fun…E.
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❤ you're most welcome beautiful ❤
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Old saying ” Only the good die young!”
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I think you and I are in deep trouble!
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You might be, I’m an atheist, and follow the other old adage, “The devil takes care of his own!” 😈
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I’d say you’re still in deep trouble! 😊
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Good! 👿
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