Sometimes God and the Universe conspire to heal you in weird ways. Here is a great example.
I had asked my dad end of last season to attend a Red Sox game with me. Our mutual favorite team/passion. He agreed. Remind me next season, he said. OK, so I did that. About 3 months ago. Looked over the schedule and picked out this coming weekend. Either tomorrow or Thursday for the O’s or the weekend for the Chicago White Sox. Dad said a few weeks ago that he’d look at his schedule and get back to me. Fine, no problem.
Keep in mind, I believe that as two adults, I shouldn’t have to check up on you to see if you’re checking your schedule and going to follow up with me. I am not your dad. You are mine and I don’t need, nor do I desire, micro management.
So fast forward to August 1st. Summer has flown by. Skip to August 15th. I’ve heard nothing from my dad and we’re within the 2 week window for flights. That part didn’t really bother me nearly as much as the feeling which would be confirmed by a group email sent a few days back, that he had totally forgotten. The email was a forward to me and a list of other folks, saying he was still alive just really busy.
That moment when you realize something that meant a lot to you isn’t going to happen is crushing. Even when you’re a grown woman. But it picks at events from my childhood, when my dad, living away from us, frequently forgot or didn’t have time.
I realize not getting to see a baseball game, a Red Sox game at Fenway, isn’t earth shattering and yet, for me, for the child in me who carries the open wounds of unmet expectations and forgotten requests, it is a big deal. It hurts like hell. Ice pick, meet heart, heart, try to dodge ice pick. No such luck.
So as I thought about that fact that I was supposed to be flying to Boston this week/end to see a Red Sox game with my dad, realizing it wasn’t going to happen, I let myself get angry. I let it hurt. I let all the other stuff come up to. Because unless you see it, feel it, deal with it and heal it, it festers. I’m done with festering stuff in my life.
Plus, I don’t want dad stuff to bleed into my relationship with the guy because he’s so awesome and none of this has a thing to do with him. He has his own issues with similar stuff but I have a chance to heal mine, and maybe someday heal his, so I’m healing mine.
So I asked God, WHY this happened and got back, “I’m sorry. I know this meant so much to you but this was the only way I knew to open that wound and cleanse it for good was to get you mad enough to react. I know you love the Red Sox and I know it meant so much to you to see a game with him but I also know that you have to heal and the only way to heal that wound from your past with your dad was to make him forget. I’m sorry; I don’t like seeing you hurting but it got you mad enough to go back through the times he forgot, the times he didn’t care, the times he was a jerk and the times he didn’t have time or didn’t follow through. All times he disappointed you. You need to air that wound out and let it heal because when I bring your soul mate to you, it’s not OK to put your dad stuff on him. Now, granted, you’re smarter than the average woman, so the chances you’d not recognize it and screw up are small but still. I had an opportunity to help you heal something that needs healed so, I took it.”
OK, I get it. I do. But I really wanted this weekend to happen, I’m still mad that it’s not going to happen and apparently hasn’t occurred to my dad that he forgot or that the dates are, well, here.
I don’t like it one bit. I forgive him because, honestly, forgiveness is about peace for me, as opposed to absolution for him.
OK, God, I get it. I understand and thank you for helping me see it and heal it. But I’m still hurt.