Friday, October 29, 2010

there is always room for forgiveness, healing and change

ten years ago, I was heading for the zenith of my PR career.
ten years ago, I was engaged and then married.
ten years ago, I was super skinny.
ten years ago, my father and I were estranged for more than a decade.
ten years ago, I found my Dad......

It was March 2000, and there was only a month left until the wedding.  I was a pretty chill bridezilla, as a seasoned event planner, I had pulled the details together quickly and seamlessly, the guest list was small (under 70 including dates) the scene was set.  Everything with the wedding was 'perfect', and I was pretty excited how well things fell into place.

But there was something missing.  There was an empty void inside of me, the pain of feeling like I wasn't worthy ... a disconnect that felt unfixable.

I was missing my Dad.  He had been out of my life for over ten years, and the pain of that was devastating.  I did all sorts of work around it, from joining Lifespring, therapy, counseling, support groups, heavy drugs, and adopting friends Dad's as father figures.  Each of the outlets provided me some comfort, but none of them answered the questions for me that played on a continuous loop in my head that started with the word 'Why'.

I was never Daddy's Girl, that spot was reserved for my sister.  But he loved me, and would tell me things you want a Dad to say, like, "you're way prettier than your sister."  Ok, not healthy but ... I loved and love that he tells me this.  Sick, yes, I am.

The month before the wedding, March 2000, my mother and I were on the phone.  She had let me know that she had seen Harvey, an old friend of Dad's, in her neighborhood walking his dogs.  She mentioned this to me a few times over a couple of weeks.  So one night, I dial 411 and get his number.  With my fiancee at my side, I dialed Harvey.

"Hi Harvey, I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm Elissa, Bob's daughter.  You haven't seen or heard from me in a long time.  My mom had said she had seen you around her neighborhood, and I was hoping you might know where my Dad is."

Harvey responded, "Of course I remember you.  Yes, I can put you in touch with your Dad, are you sure you really want to talk with him?"

"Oh yes, if it's not too much trouble, I have a pen and paper, could I get his number," shaking, I'm waiting for the information.

"Elissa, I can put you in touch with him," he repeated, "but, are you sure you want to speak with him?"

"Yes, really, I do," nervous but sure, I responded.

"How about I put him on the phone now," I could hear Harvey smiling through the receiver, "He's sitting right here.  I haven't seen him in years, and he's visiting with me right now!"

My father got on the phone and within minutes we had orchestrated a plan to meet downtown at Temple Bar for a martini.  Our reunion was six martini's deep, and by the end, I realized that all the therapy, counseling, drugs and support groups were bullshit, I really just needed to see my dad and get that sort of affirmation that only could come from him.

I did ask him the big question, 'Why."  His answer was, "I really don't know, but I'm sorry."

In that moment, I surrendered to realizing that was enough, that he was a suffering human being, who made a lot of bad choices.  He shared that he thought of calling me, but each time, he felt worse that more time had passed.

From there.... things changed.  He was back in my life.  He still wasn't invited to the wedding, my mom and sister put the kybosh to that.  I wish I had stood my ground, and it saddens me he wasn't there but... clearly, there will be a next one.  Well, I can hope.

After 9/11, I convinced my mother and sister to invite him to Thanksgiving, and from that point on, our dysfunctional wacky family was reunited.  At that holiday dinner, I refused the champagne, and announced that I was pregnant.  He might of missed the wedding, but he hasn't missed a day of my son's life.   The first people to meet the Zbot after his Dad, was my mom and MY DAD.  In fact, it was my father who handed Zoren to me the first time I finally got to hold him in my arms.


After the torture of the worst divorce in history, my parents made the 'War of the Roses' look like a side show at the Big Apple Circus .... years and years apart, my parents are friends, good friends.  Dad has been making amends to each of us.  He has taken care of my mom during her stroke, cancer and other emergency visits to the hospital.  He visits my sister in Boston.  My father is back in my life, and ... we have had some BIG breakthroughs in our relationship, particularly this year.  I took a stand and made amends to him for my part in the difficulties of our relationship over matzoh ball soup at Passover dinner at my mom's.  And ... most recently, he took a stand and stood up for ME with my family when I needed him to.  After years of crying that my Dad doesn't get my back, I got to see that he really does.

Today he turned 68, although, he would prefer if you would just say 59.  He just went through a couple of years of pain and surgery and I am seeing the impermanence of life unfolding before me.  He's not the tough, heartless, ruthless business man of his past... he too has been broken by his own suffering.  Where I once felt disdain and resentment, I feel genuine love and compassion.  The night we were reunited at the Temple Bar, I discovered my father was a broken man.  I forgave him easily, but it certainly hasn't been easy and smooth between us these past ten years.  Both of us have worked on it, and while our relationship may not be the example of ideal, it ain't bad.  I have a dad, and my son has a very close relationship with his grandfather. 


I'm so grateful to have my Dad in my life.  I know that something strange and mysterious was at work the day I found him at Harvey's apartment.  In these times where I struggle with a continuous crisis of faith, I have to acknowledge that something must have been at work that I was able to find him in one phone call.

So Dad, Happy Birthday.  Thanks for being in my life, and for teaching me that there is always room for forgiveness, healing and change.  I love you very much.