As a lot of you know (and some prolly don't) I travel a lot for work. I get to do what i love (building large computer networks) and see the good ol' US of A in the process. I've been to almost every state, and a few other countries. It's fun, pays well, and you always learn something new in the process. I headed out on monday from SLC (home) on a 10 day 3 city trip doing site surveys of potential installs. It's easy and allows me a lot of free time while on the road. I headed to Atlanta to begin the trip. I got in my rental (a big ass Dodge RAM 1500 pickup...and NO i'm not a redneck...LOL) and hit the road with my GPS.
After about an hour or so i found myself in strangely familiar territory. I couldn't quite figure out why it seemed familiar. I was just following the GPS to my hotel. I felt as if i had been here before. I had been out here once a few years ago, but hardly spent enough time to know the area (Peachtree City). I was about a mile from the hotel when i realized why it seemed like i had been here before.
I drove by the cemetery where my dad is buried.
Now some of you might say..."Well that's no big deal". And in most cases you would be right. Most people have been to their parents graves many times. At least once a year. Not me.
My Dad died when i was eleven. My parents divorced when i was three. I never really knew my father. I had only visited his grave once in my lifetime, and honestly i couldn't tell you how to find it. After my parents divorced, my dad moved to Atlanta, and i had very little contact with him. My dad was an alcoholic, and was known to eat his fair share of prescriptions. From what everybody tells me, he was a really great guy...When he was sober that is. When he would drink he would get mean. He would become abusive to everybody, especially my mom. She left him because of his frequent drunken psychotic escapades and took my sister and me back to SLC where she grew up. I was raised by her, and her parents, and my grandfather became my role model, and to me he was my dad. Gramps passed away almost two years ago.
Eventually my dad realized how big of a fuck-up he was, went to rehab and cleaned himself up. He stayed sober, built a very successful business, re-married, and was actually counseling other alcoholics. And i think he realized that he had two kids on the other side of the country, and needed to be part of their lives. He called my mom and discussed it with her and she agreed. We started off small. With letters that eventually turned into phone calls. He came out to see me right after my 11th birthday. I was beginning to believe that everything would work out.
Three weeks later he died of a heart attack. He was 46.
For years after, it haunted me. The only thing i ever wanted was to have my dad in my life. To do father and son stuff. The kind of things most guys take for granted. I would never get my chance. At that time in my life, i wasn't equipped to deal with all the baggage this had left me. I was just a lonely, confused, and hurt little kid. As i got older the hurt turned to anger, and then to rage. I started holding my mom responsible for the lack of time with my dad. For some reason which i still do not understand, i had convinced myself that it was her fault. And i started acting out. Getting in fights, stealing cars, doing drugs, drinking, and basically just being a total asshole. I was arrested i don't know how many times as a teenager, was locked up for a while, went to counseling (which did absolutely no good) and as soon as i was on the street again, i would repeat the same cycle all over again. Eventually i pulled my head out of my ass and realized a few things. Like that my mom wasn't responsible for anything except escaping an abusive relationship and trying to better the lives of her children. And that the only person to blame is in the ground a mile down the road from here.
So after work today i drove over there and paid my respects. I stood there and wondered what life would have been like if he would have been a bigger part of my life. How things might have been different. How because of his actions i still have issues in my life that i will probably be dealing with for the rest of my life.How his actions affect my relationships with women (36, never been married or engaged), and how i never want to end up like him. How my relationship with my mom would have been different if i hadn't held her responsible for him not being around. All kinds of stuff.
But the funny thing is...There is no more anger towards him. None...zip...nada.
I dont know when or why, but i guess i let him off the hook . I think at that moment i realized that it was his fault for choosing the path in life that he did, but in the end he was trying to make it right. And that you can't choose when your number is up. Death just happens. If we could pick and choose when we die, Elvis would still be packing the Vegas HIlton. I'm sitting there thinking about how his death affected me and how bad it messed with me for years, and for the first time in my life i was actually putting things in the proper perspective. And how much i had changed over the years and how subtle those changes can be. I never thought i would be able to forgive my dad for all the things he did, but i think i finally have. I also realized that if i ever get married and settle down how i am NOT going to make the same mistakes he did. I never want to run even the slightest risk of doing to my children what my dad did to his with his self destructive lifestyle.
And for the first time in my life, i feel like i have a little bit of closure.
Yep...Life is strange sometimes.
