A Lesson Learned

“Dan, I can’t forgive myself; can you?”

“Dad, stop; we don’t have time for this,” Dan interrupted his father. There are a lot of important decisions to talk about. You promised me last week that you would sign the Power of Attorney form that would-”

Fred’s cough rattled in his chest, leaving sputum on his hospital gown. He willed himself to speak, rationing out the words he might have left to gift to his son, The oxygen mask distorted his words. ”Please, Dan, listen to me, while I can still talk.”.

“Dad! Stop rambling. Stop making it about you; it’s always about you! Can’t you think about your own son for once? For once in your life? Is that too much to ask?”

“Dan! I made so many mistakes. I didn’t know what a father was.” Fred shook with the effort to speak. Dan had to look away. A tug of pity and and unfamiliar longing stabbed his soul.

“OK, Dad, you obviously need some rest. I’m going to get some coffee.”

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Fred Murney was the youngest of six boys spanning a 15-year gap .A set of twins was born two years before Fred arrived. The household was in constant chaos. There was always food to cook, laundry to be washed, schoolwork to be done, baths and showers to be supervised, transportation to be provided, and countless other chores and day-to-day activities that popped up when babies, young children and young young adults had lives to forge and pursue. What Fred remembered was two loving parents supporting each other as a team, loving each other other and their family.

Until one day, the day after Fred turned four years old, his father, Mike, walked out on the family, The twins were fighting over a bowl of cereal, the dogs were chasing each other around the living room, Jake was running around hollering for his keys,and Bobby was begging Mike for help for help with his homework.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” he muttered as he stormed out. The old screen door hit him in the head and fell off its hinges. The last image Fred had of his father was the back of his black-and red wool flannel shirt.

Fred’s mother, Eileen shrugged her shoulders. “What’cha gonna do?” she said to no one in particular.

The next day, with the kids off to school, and who-knows-where, Eileen walked into town and found a waitressing job at the local diner. She’d be working 9-9 Monday, Tuesday,Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Mrs. Kay had hired her to tutor and babysit her daughter every Saturday from 12-8.

Eileen was able to count on the older brothers to care of the younger ones when she worked. She had always been a hands-on mother. Eileen succumbed to a moment of self-blame that she would be depriving her younger ones of being more present in their lives. She rationalized,“There’s more than one way to be a good mother. I have to do what I have to do. One day they’ll understand why I couldn’t be there for them all the time.”

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After thirty minutes, Dan waltzed back into the small cubicle that housed his sickly father. He pushed on. Dad, he implored.C’mon’ I’ll hold the pen for you… there you go

“You’re my son; my only child, and I want… want…”

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Fred was left largely on his own.His brothers were either off at work or spending time with their girlfriends. Ronnie, the 18-year old, had been arrested for petty theft.The twins wanted nothing to do with him. They’d formed their own exclusive bond, and it was as if they’d built a moat around themselves.

As his teenage years shimmered within reach, his mother seemed almost as unavailable as his father. Where she had once been busy and occupied, she’d been available physically and emotionally. That changed at the drop of a dime when his father had left, taking his responsibilities and his income along with him.

Fred had started to improvise the shape of his own life. He left school in 10th grade and never looked back.Choices and decisions confronted him that he wasn’t prepared to make.

So he didn’t. He treated them like so much mental trash, to be tossed into a dumping ground of other useless junk. He found the crowd that partied and left responsibility behind; he drank and let the drugs rule his life until he found himself living on the streets, surviving almost hour-by hour. 

He was 18 years old.

It was on a Wednesday afternoon that Marjorie pulled up to the curb in her blue car, pulled up the brake, and walked right up to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. His head snapped up.

“You don’t belong here,” she said. “I know you; I see through you.”

“What are you talking about?” Fred slurred.

“I know you; I see your eyes: they’re kind, gentle, with a soul that matches mine. I know where you are because I’ve been in the same place.It’ brutal; it’s lonely; and it’s almost a certain death sentence to try to get better on your own. We both know where you are right now, and we both know where you need to be. Let’s go.”

With Marjorie’s help,Fred went willingly to the nearest rehab facility 15 miles away. He had no idea how long he’d be there, but he knew that it was better than spending eternity in the abyss where he’d been.

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“Dad, Dad, what’s going on here?! Dad??” 

A nurse walked into Fred’s room, adjusted the IV tubing ,assessed his lungs, and measured his oxygen saturation level. Efficiently, she entered all the information into the electronic progress notes, nodded to Dan, and left.

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One year later, a sober Fred and a glowing Marjorie stood at the office of the Justice of the Peace and pledged their love, their lives, their loyalty, and their forever to each other. Exactly one year later, their son, Daniel was born.

Marjorie, bathed in sweat, tears, smiles and pain, laughed with joy. “Fred, he’s here! Our Daniel; just as we decided. Just look at him!”

Fred extended his arms, and reached for his son. He cradled Daniel and waited. And waited. Nothing. He felt no tug of connection or attachment. He tried, oh, he tried, but he was numb. He had no feeling for this baby that was his. 

 He met Marjorie’s questioning eyes and arranged a smile on his face. “Well, isn’t he just something!” he crowed.

Over the years, Fred remained physically and emotionally unavailable to Dan; it was what he had known as a child. He held onto the few flash memories of his father, and missed the mother who had nurtured him as a boy. Deep in his soul he sensed that a rich treasure was missing from his life, but it didn’t have a name and he didn’t allow himself to explore it.

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“I wanted to make things right, but by then it was too late…”

“”OK, Dad, we’re finished with the important stuff, now let’s talk about what you wanted to say.”

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When Marjorie, the love of his life, died 10 years ago, Fred understood with deep clarity what he had been missing. He’d never been a father to his son, never been there to support, encourage, guide or help him. They’d never gone to the diner just for a piece of cake, or tossed a frisbee, or adopted a dog to take on walks together. They had both missed out on a lifetime bond between father and soon,and there was no time for that now; absolutely no time.

“There… is… just one.. more thing..” Fred’s eyes fluttered, and Dan started to panic.

“Dad, it’s your time now. Now that the important stuff is out of the way, let’s get back to what you wanted to talk about; I really want to hear it.”

The EKG flatlined, and the high-pitched tone from the machine sent the doctors and the nurses running. Fred’s life of 85 years was over.

No, Dan, thought, there’s no time for anything more. The important words have never, and never will be,said.

Dad, you turned out to be a great father. You taught me what’s really important.