On listening to my father
by Elouise
My father’s shame, like mine, went back to his childhood. He endured family hardships as one child of many. These included things like carrying lard sandwiches to school and being ashamed to let classmates see him eating them; wearing winter ‘shoes’ made from pieces of old rubber and ropes; and living in fear of being shamed and beaten by his father.
Childhood shame became envy. One opportunity after another slipped through his fingers. He was a proud man, filled with deep-seated resentments. Then there were dreams he couldn’t give up even though they weren’t going to happen. On top of this, the older I became, the more difficult it was for him to celebrate my accomplishments.
In this slightly revised poem I’m inviting him to join me. I first wrote it about a poor woman in a portrait. I recognized myself in her. I know what it’s like to live with shame that feeds envy. I can’t change what happened between my father and me; I can, however, change the way my heart sees him today. I can also listen to him now in ways he couldn’t listen to me. Perhaps I might even weep with him.
Suffering from Obsessive Envy
I know this proud man
The look in his eyes
The slightly raised brow
The unsmiling mouth.Heavy with envy,
His eyes keep sharp watch
Marking my own good fortune
As were it his loss.Am I not entitled?
Do I not slave harder?
How dare she be happy
At my poor expense.Dear father, I know you.
You cower in my heart;
Your anger, your silence,
Your pride, your fierce want.Look at me if you dare
Look me straight in the eye
Describe your resentments,
The dreams you saw die.Weep long if you must
For the life you have led;
Sit here on this bench
Let me wipe your tears dry.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 February 2019
Telling the Truth 
Oh my, how I can relate.
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Thanks, ch. I appreciate your comment, and wish we lived closer to each other. I pray all is well.
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Powerful and healing. Well done!
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Thank you, Dan! I never thought I’d live to see this day….
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And insightful.
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Many thanks, Robin. Family legacies are a tangled bundle of things. And our generation is now in the driver’s seat — sort of.
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We would often have lard on bread with salt. I liked it – but never taken to school. And many shoes were given an inner sole of folded newspaper. I am so grateful that I do not feel the need to forgive my father.
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Yes. From what I’ve read and seen on your blogsite, I would have loved to have known your father. Your mother, too. 🙂
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Yes, indeed. What an amazing poem, Elouise.
There are those who say, we can change the past, and see it working out better as we would wish. Indeed, I have experienced this, though I would not belabour the circumstances. But we can, dear love. I’m not sure if you are a visual person – maybe, I suspect? – in which case, we can see life unfolding differently.
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You hit the nail on the head! I am incorrigibly visual. If I can’t ‘see’ it, I neither ‘get it’ nor care to keep trying.
This poem, first written while examining a stunning painting of an obsessively envious older woman, was written while staring at her face and clothing. And, need I say, seeing all the small prompts that connected with me. Which made me wonder about my father–not back then, but in the past weeks.
So the slightly revised poem is a ‘visual’ projection of where I am now–an outcome I never anticipated. The tables are turned, and yet they aren’t. I’m alive in this world, and my father is wherever he is. I can’t change him. I can, however, change my present by envisioning and embodying deeper compassion and empathy for him than I’ve been able to muster in the past. Bound, in this instance, by shared experiences of shame and envy.
I love your comments! 🙂
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Thank you so much, Elouise.
Honestly, I learn so much from your insights, your sheer cleverness, which never ceases to amaze me, in big ways and small. You are truly an artist. When you add to that your compassion, your desire to understand and your indefatigable energy…! It’s such a delight to share.
Take care, dear friend. XXX
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First, parents are examples, and persons to trust, mostly. However, what changes is your education, your biases, prejudices, your experiences and the sort of person you are: An excellent example of this is in the novel by Miles Franklin, MY BRILLIANT CAREER, also a novel. The book is better, but the movie hits this point hard and on its own is very good. Miles Franklin author was as different from her parents as a child would be. The instant sign of difference was the author always asking, why?
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Thanks for your comment, Michael. I’ve read and seen My Brilliant Career. Fabulous. As for parents, we must make do with what we’re dealt…the good along with the rest. Changes happen, but often not without great effort. Parents change as well. Hopefully for the better. I’m grateful to have had a gifted psychotherapist who helped me. It took decades, and was worth every terrifying, painful step. I appreciate your comment.
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