Thursday, January 07, 2021

Coming Full Circle

This is a repost from 2009, which was two years after I started this blog. I don't think any of you who currently read my blog have ever read this post. If you have, think of this as a continuation of things I've learned from this experience.

The reason I'm sharing this post again is because I've been thinking a lot about my father who passed away in 1993. I can feel him around me. In fact, I have felt him around me for the past nine months. And when I say, "feel him," I mean that I can feel his presence in my heart.  

The story you are about to read concerns healing.

And what I've learned about healing is that it doesn't have a beginning, a middle, and an end.  

Healing is a continuous journey that very often resurfaces at certain stages of someone's life, when a particular experience and the feelings associated with that experience need to be brought closer and revisited.   

In a way, I don't think anyone fully heals from an experience, but rather they keep moving forward; learning from it. And that is why it's called healing.

At least that's how I see it.

After you read the original post, I will be sharing more about what I'm still learning from that experience. 

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Coming Full Circle

-2009-

Most of you already know that my present mother is actually my stepmother, and that my biological mother passed away when I was 6 years old. But what you don’t know are the specifics concerning her illness and death.

As you read this story, I ask that you do not feel sorry for me because this experience has been a powerful teacher. In fact, I ask that you feel acceptance because I believe that everything happens for a reason. There are times when we all make choices that may not be for the best, yet every choice is something we learn from.  

Even when choices are made for us.

A year after I was born, my mother was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease and lived with this illness for five years. And at the young age of 40 she passed away, leaving behind a husband and three small children.

It was not until the last year of her life did my mother even know what was happening to her. You see, back in the 1950's it was believed “best” not to share the prognosis of terminal cancer with a patient. And out of genuine care and concern, my father made the choice not to share this with his children.

But by the time I was 6-years old, I knew something was up. 

Coming from an Italian family and knowing how dramatic and emotional Italian funerals could be, my father also made the choice not to allow his children to attend the funeral.

So a few days before my mothers death, my siblings and I were taken to stay with a relative. And after the two day funeral was over, the three of us were brought back to our home and then told what had happened.

I can honestly tell you that I have no recollection of feeling anything at the time. A part of me sensed what had been going on with my mother. But not to have had the chance to say goodbye, froze my ability to feel or express any emotion.

Yes, I know what most of you are thinking…

“Ron, how did you feel about your father making these choices for you?”

Throughout his life, we openly talked about it. He felt tremendously guilty and would every so often ask me if I forgave him. And of course I did, because even though his choices were not the wisest, I told him that I knew his intention came from a sincere love and desire to protect me. You see, my father was a good man with a good heart. He didn't make those choices to be nasty or mean, he made them because of his own fear of facing anything that was uncomfortable. Therefore, how could I not forgive him? I loved him. Not forgiving him or even being angry with him never even crossed my mind.  

However, as I got into my mid-30’s, I began to investigate and use various alternative healing therapies because I knew that I needed some kind of closure. And in doing so, it enabled me to finally discover that as an overly-sensitive child, I had unconsciously taken on the pain of my mothers death for my entire family (including my mother), yet had neglected my own. And it was during a session with my therapist, I had a very intense breakthrough in which I began the process of letting go of my own pain that I had been carrying around with me since I was a child. 

About six months before my father died, my stepmother called to tell me that he was terminally ill but avoided sharing it with me because he didn’t want to cause any pain.

So I wrote him a letter, telling him that I knew he was terminally ill and that he needed to allow me to be a part of it. I also told him that even though I forgave him, I would not allow him to make the same choices he had made involving my mothers death.

Which was to deny me closure as a means to avoid unavoidable pain.

My stepmother told me that when he read my letter, he sat down on the edge of his bed and sobbed because he was relieved that I had confronted him.

And oddly enough, it was through the process of allowing me to walk with him through his own death, did he allow me to also walk through my mothers death.

The choices had come full circle…

and we both began to heal our pain.

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Last spring, during the pandemic lockdown, I had a lot of time to go within and reflect on my life. I used that time to bring several things closer and see if there was anything else I needed to learn from them.

I discovered that I did. 

And particularly when it came to issues of the heart and trusting. Even at my age, I still carry remnants of abandonment and fear of loving someone and having them disappear without ever knowing why. And for many years that is exactly the type of relationships I attracted. Men who would suddenly vanish from my life. Isn't it something that however painful it is, we tend to recreate the same scenario because it's familiar to us. 

It was at this point that I began to feel the presence of my father when I was in quiet mediation and holding my hands gently over my heart.

Not only could feel my heart open and soften, but I could also feel an inner dialogue form between my father and I. 

I asked him to help me let go of my fear of abandonment. 

I asked him to give me courage to leave myself open to a healthy relationship.

I asked him to give me the strength to trust again.

You see, it's never too late to alter your perception of what was once a painful experience. 

I truly believe that regardless of what choices a parent makes in a child's life, it is up to the child to learn from those choices.

That is why I don't blame my father for anything. 

I loved him with all my heart. And I still do. 

A parent's role is to guide and teach. 

And this, right here, is exactly what my father is teaching me. 

Have a great rest of your week, everyone!

💗