I think that we all sometimes struggle in our relationships with our parents as we get older. We finally come to see them in "grown up" terms realizing that they, like anyone else, have faults. Parents are seldom perfect and i know this now, but i guess i hold parents to a higher standard and think that they should try to be as perfect as possible. (oddly, enough, i hold politicians to this same high standard....) Oh, of course, i thought all of these things BEFORE i became a parent. It's so easy to be a parent when you don't have children, isn't it?
I remember growing up, i would wait for my Dad to come home by the window, looking for his car. He would hug me, swing me around and laugh. I remember his smell and of course, at such a young age, you don't really know what those smells are....it's a Daddy smell. Being in the military, he was gone a lot....sometimes for well over a year at a time. Naturally, my sister and i had a stronger relationship with my Mother as it seemed to be just the three of us growing up. My Mom was a great cook and even a better baker. Many hours were spent in the kitchen with my sister, watching her cook, wishing that one day, i would be able to cook as she did. I always thought it odd when i got into my teenage years and saw how when my Dad did come home, my Mom, my competent strong Mom, would take a back seat to my Dad and let him handle things. And of course, it was during my teenage years that i figured out that "Daddy smell"....it was a sweet mixture of sweat and liquor. It goes without saying that during that time, i also noticed many military men drank...and drank a lot. My Dad was no exception. He wasn't a mean drunk....kind of a social happy drunk. (yeah, like that makes it better, eh?)
I never liked how he treated my Mom, though. I never felt that he was loving enough, took care of her enough, loved her like she loved him. Of course, who knows what goes on in someone else's marriage? When my Mom got sick, i was angry at him that he didn't do more, take her to the doctors that my sister and i wanted him to take her to, angry at him because he said that "she" didn't want to go to those doctors, that he wasn't more affectionate towards her. Crap, i was just angry....cancer is not a pretty disease. Many, many advances have been made in cancer, but none of these would help my Mom once my sister and i drug her the doctors that we felt could help her. It was just too late to help her.
It's well known that drinkers sometime have other vices....like gambling. Yep, my Dad signed up for that. And like most gamblers, he lost big. He lost very big. And i was the one who figured this out when i had moved down to Atlanta to take care of her during her last months. I was angry. How could ANYONE be so careless, so irresponsible? How could ANYONE loose this much money?? My Mom was so careful with money, always believing that you should save, save, save as you never know what may happen. They lived very comfortable lives because of how she saved and invested. To have this happen during the time my Mom was sick? If i needed anything to push me over the edge in my relationship with him, this did it. I haven't spoken to him since my Mom's funeral....after writing him a letter saying that if he didn't get help, didn't stop gambling, i wanted no part of his life and would not let him be a part of my life. And so it was....
...until yesterday.
A package arrived at our door. My husband orders everything online: books, diapers, formula, videos, things for his company so i picked up the package not paying attention to it and tossed it on the table. Emma and i went about our day and this package sat on our dinning room table. Upon coming home, i tell my husband that there's a package on the table for him. He comes and finds me and Emma playing "Chase Mommy" in the hallway and hands me the package. It's from my Dad. I hold the package, hearing my heart beat in my ears. What is it? Why has he sent me something? Why can't he just go away? It's easier to not think about how much i miss my Mom when i don't have contact with him...
I take the package into our den and open it. It is addressed to all three of us, which is a surprise. I peer into the package that seems to be so carefully wrapped and it is a package of the very cookies that my Mom would make for me that i loved so much: Pecan Puffs or some folks call them wedding cookies. There is also a small bag of Pecan Puffs sans pecans for little Emma. I can suddenly feel my Mom around me as i taste one of the cookies, i can feel her around me telling me that he's trying to make peace with me. And of course, i cry. Not pretty tears, or sniffing tears, but big sloppy i-miss--my-Mom tears....
I call my sister after i manage to get a hold of myself. No cookies for her. In fact, she's hasn't spoken to him in weeks...and then it was because she is handing his finances to ensure that he won't gamble away the money that is left. He apparently is staying on the budget that she has him on. She's surprised, i can tell, that he's sent me those cookies that he baked. (He is also a wonderful baker and cook; why i got none of these genes except for cup cake making is beyond me....) And then she tells me the exact words that my husband told me "You do understand that he's trying to make peace with you, don't you?"
I called him this morning. I called the house because i knew he wouldn't answer as he's at work. I thanked him for the cookies and for thinking about Emma. And tell him that i miss him. And tell him that if he wants, he can come visit. And that i love him.
And i hang up and know that i've done what my Mom would have wanted me to do....
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