Father Letter #2/Abraham Lincoln

Thursday, (OK, it's really Wednesday but I'm going to be without a computer for a few days while I break down my office and relocate to the house so I'm writing Thursday and Friday's blog ahead of time - I can publish them from my IPad on the appropriate days).

Yesterday I shared the first of the three fathers letters with you - plucked from a book I'm writing in which the heroine herself writes a book. In her book, there is a surreal chapter where her therapist summons her three dead fathers into his consultation room. They are confused to be there. Charlotte has written three letters, one to each of them and they are asked to read the letters which they do. This book is a very thinly disguised memoir that mirrors my own wishes - that I could find peace with each of my three fathers, get to spend some quality after-life time with each of them in an effort to understand why they each failed me so badly. One went and died on me. Another didn't own up to his paternity of me (I have to think he wondered if the baby his lover was carrying could have been his). The third belittled and abused me.

And I'm holding out on you because there are actually four fathers as you will see when I publish the fourth father letter (a bonus posting on Saturday). The fourth father is the one who stepped up and didn't abrogate -  the one who loved me best. And if I think more creatively and broadly, there is yet a fifth father I lean on when things are rough. Is there someone in your life you mentally turn to (a special teacher, coach, scout leader) when you need guidance - "What would X tell me to do?"  For me, that person is Abraham Lincoln. In the absence of a present father, you make due and, because I'm a history nut, he's my "go-to" inspiration. There have been times in my life when I've been faced with crossroad decisions. It's rarely failed me to ask myself what Father Abraham would do if faced with the same decision - amazing man who holds up to the scrutiny of history - my proxy father.

I have a friend I don't mention much in this blog who has been a stalwart friend to me through this office move. He has stepped up, swooped in, with humor and focus, and helped me make this transition. I owe him big - there will come a time when I will repay the swooping and help him through whatever it is he needs help with. I'd probably marry him if he didn't play for the other team - we joke we should still consider marriage despite the sexual preference thing. Hey look at Liza and David Gest, right? Oops that didn't work out all that well - didn't he accuse her of beating him?

Here is Charlotte's father letter #2 - to her biological father.

June 21, 2009 

Dear Father 

I stare at your picture.  I see myself in your face.  I wonder how we may be alike.  But most of all, I am so very sad not to have known you.  Even now I cry heaving sobs when I think of that missed opportunity. All my life I wanted my father and all the time you were there.   You died when I was 33, a grown woman.  We should have been in each others’ lives. 

And this is my fantasy:  It was always a source of sadness for you that you couldn’t have children.  You reconciled yourself to it and threw yourself into a different life – culture, art, society, pleasure.  And these things were satisfying to a degree – they made for an interesting life.  But in your quiet moments you longed for a child, someone who would love you unconditionally, someone who belonged to you.  And especially as you grew older and your family moved away, that longing and regret grew. I belonged to you and you belonged to me; you were mine and I was yours. 

Why then didn’t we know?  We should have known.   You would be proud of me.   I overcame many obstacles to be a worthy woman.  I have worked hard and honestly.  I have lived unselfishly in the service of others.   And now as the last third of my life approaches, I am striving to be even better so that I can live out the rest of my life with joy and appreciation. 

It will, though, always be a source of great sadness to me that you and I didn’t have time together.  I would have sung to you, cooked for you, picked out your clothes, darned your socks, taken you to the doctor, made sure you took care of yourself.   I would have taken your face in my hands and kissed you on each of your eyes and on your nose.  I would have loved you passionately. And you would have loved me; I am sure of it. 

Your Charlotte

I know these letters are sappy but they were written when I was reeling from the paternity discovery and I was very raw and over-emoting. Keep in mind as well, they were written in the voice of a simple naive character in a book within a book. They weren't intended to be sophisticated and nuanced.

Challenge today is thinking about your own father(s). Do you struggle as I do? I don't know too many happy father stories. Seems like most of my friends have troublesome relationships with their fathers, even if they love them - one who is convicted felon/gambler, another an immigrant who shamed and physically hurt his kids, another a womanizer who broke my friend's mother's heart and who now enjoys the love of his daughter whether he deserves it or not, another a narcissistic businessman who put his own needs ahead of his family's - the list goes on. Good fathers, it seems, are rare. My friend Tom is one. Carol's dad gets a prize. Alan's dad grew into the role. Abraham Lincoln was one. There are some.

Peace,
Sarah