You Did Good.docx

You Did Good.docx

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YouDidGood

YouDidGood

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64  2009-7-21

MydadgrewupduringtheDepressionandlaterfoughtinWorldWarII.Whenhewasborn,hisownfatherwastoooldandtiredtoinvestanytimeinhisonlychild,somydadlearnedearlyonhowtoworkhardandmakemoney.Andnomatterhowbadthingsmightbe,mydadalwaysknewhowtolookstrong.Inthepostwarera,wheneveryonewantedtoerasetheirhorrifyingmemoriesandemotions,myfatherbecameamasteratburyinghisfeelings.Afterliberatingtheconcentrationcampsandseeingtheworstthatanywarhadtooffer,keepinghisfeelingsinsidewastheonlywaymydadknewhowtosurvive.

Withoutrealizingit,mydadbecamedomineeringandcontrolling.Asaparent,hedidanythingforhischildrenandworkedhardtoprovidethebestforus.However,ifhedidn’tagreewithusaboutsomething,ourfeelingsdidn’tinteresthim;hisopinionsalwaysprevailed―“caseclosed.”Whenitwastimeforemotionalintimacyorvulnerability,myfatherplayedhiscardsclosetohischest.Hekepthisfeelingslockedinavaulttowhichnoone,includinghimself,hadthecombination.

Still,despiteourbeingverydifferentemotionally,mydadwasmyhero.

Hewasaworld-classbusinessman,amarketinggenius,anentrepreneur,asingerandatruevisionary.WhenIwaslearninghowtodream,hetaughtmehowtodreambig.“Broadenyourhorizons,sweetie,”heusedtosay.“There’sawholeworldoutthereandnothing’sstoppingyou.”Iemulatedhim,quotedhimandlistenedforeverynuggetofwisdomIcouldgleanfromhim.

Iwasamusician,actressandwriter.Somehow,thoseoccupationsjustdidn’tfitthebillwithmyfather;whatIdidneverseemedtomeethisapproval.Poetryandsongwritingwereintangibleandinvolvedanareaunsafeforhim:

emotions.

“Whatareyoudoingoutthereinthebackyardwithyourguitarandyourjournals,anyway?

”hewouldaskmesarcasticallywhenIwasyounger.

“I’mjustwritingsongs,”Ianswered,tryingnottofeelashamed.

“Writingsongs?

Howareyougoingtoearnaliving?

Whatareyougoingtohavetofallbackon?

”hedemanded,exasperated.

Therewerethingswecouldnevertalkabout,thingsthatwerepainfullyleftunsaid.Iwantedwithallmyhearttotellmydadwhataherohewastome.IwantedhimtounderstandwhoIreallywas.Ibegantowonderifthereasonhecouldn’tapproveofmewasthatheneverreallyapprovedofhimself.Hewassohardoneverybody,buthewasthehardestandmostunforgivingofhimself.Itriedtocrackthedoortohisheartonmanyoccasions.Itriedsohardtosharemyfeelingsandcreateabondofintimacy,butitwastooawkwardforhim,toofrightening.IoftensenthimsentimentalcardsandtoldhimIlovedhim.Hewouldhugme,butthencrackajokeandcoverit.TherewassomuchthatIneededtosaytohim,butIdidn’tknowhowtodoit.

OneFridaynightIcamehomelatefordinnerandmysonannounced,“Grandpa’sbeentryingtocallyoualldayandiswaitingforyoutocallhim.”

Howstrange,Ithought.Itwasalwaysmymomwhodidthelong-distancecallingwhilemydadsatinhisreclinerandreadthepaper,callingoutthingsthatshewassupposedtoremembertotell“thekids.”Whywouldmydadbetryingalldaytoreachme?

Iwastiredandhungryandthoughtaboutcallinghiminthemorning,butdecidedtodialhimthen.Heansweredrightawayandwasrelievedtohearfromme.

“I’vegotaproblem,sweetie,”hesaiddirectly,“andIneedyouradvice.”

Myadvice?

Whenhadmyfathereverapproachedmeasanadultforadvice?

Hewasupsetaboutsomethingsgoingonamongourrelativesandactuallywantedtoconfideinmeaboutit.Iwasshocked.Hewasthoughtfulandintrospectiveanditdrewmein.

“Oh,Iprobablyshouldn’tworryaboutthem,”hesaidtryingtoappearstrong,“butitjustdrivesmecrazy.”

Wetalkedalongtimeandasheopeneduptome,Ifeltthatdoortohisheartcrackopen,somethingIhadwaitedformywholelife.Themorehesharedhisfrustrationsandreachedouttome,themoreIfeltIcouldcrossthelineandtellhimhowIreallyfelt.

“Dad,”Ibegan.“Youknow,you’renotonlyagreatperson,youdidagreatjobasafather.DidIevertellyouthat?

”

Hedidn’tsayanything,butIknewhewaslisteningintently.“Youdidagreatjob,”Iexhorted.“Iknowyou’reupsetnow,butthingswillworkoutwitheverybody.ThemainthingIjustwantyoutodoistogiveyourselfcredit―younevergiveyourselfenoughcredit,Dad.Yousentmetocollege,yougavemeavision,yousupportedme.”

I’dfinallysaidit.

Helaughedgood-naturedly.Icontinued,“Ioweyouathankyou,andIhopeyourealizehowmuchyoudidformeasmydad.”

Icouldalmosthearhimsmilingontheotherend.Iknewhewastouchedandfeltalittleawkward.Hisvoicesoundedshaky.“Well,wegotyoueducated,”hesaid,laughingnervously.

“Youdidmorethanthat,”Isaid.“Youdidgood.”

“Youlikeyourhousenow,andyourlife?

”heaskedquietly,catchingmeoffguard.

“Yeah,Dad,I’mhappy.Youdon’thavetoworry―thingsaregoinggreatforus.”

“That’sgood,”hesaid,withasighofrelief.“Soeverything’sokay,then?

”heasked,almostasifhewerecheckingitalloffalistthatwouldallowhimtoresteasier.

“Everything’sgreat,Dad.”

ItoldhimIlovedhimandhetoldmehelovedmeandIhungupthephone.AsIgotreadyforbed,Ithoughtaboutwhatanamazingconversationwehad.Iwashighwiththeemotionalintimacy,whichhadbeenlongoverdue.

Tenhourslater,mymothercalled,wakingme.Icouldhardlyunderstandwhatshewastryingtosay.

“Yourfather’sdead!

”shescreamed.“Ifoundhimlyingonthediningroomfloor.Hehadjustopenedthedrapestoletthesunin,andhefelloverdead.”

SuddenlyIwasstandingstraightupbesidemybed,clingingtothephoneandsobbing.

“Whereareyourightnow,Mom?

”

“I’msittingherewaitingforthepolicetocome.”

“Areyoutherealone?

”

“Yes,buttheneighborsareontheirwayover.”

Iwasathousandmilesaway.AllIcouldthinkaboutwashowmanyhours,minutesandsecondsitwouldtakemetojumponaplaneandgetthere.Ithoughtaboutmymothersittingtherealonewithmyfather,andIcouldn’tmovefastenough.

Theflightwaslongandpainful,likeaslow-motiondream.Ihadplannedongoinghometoseemydadandmominanothermonth,andIweptaloud,thinkingIwastoolate.ThenIsuddenlyrealizedtheincrediblemiracleofitall:

Ihadn’tbeenlateatall.Actually,everythinghadbeenrightontime.