Tell me dear public, does this seem morbid.
My dad is currently one of many relatives with cancer. A few months back he told me he wants to be cremated. Then, he wants me to take his ashes to New Mexico and find a spot where I don’t hear any sign of human life and pour him there. I’m sure this is weird to some people, but if you know my Dad it makes sense. Growing up, he always wanted to be a cowboy, so when he was a teenager he ran away from home and worked for several months on a ranch in New Mexico. My grandparents came and got him, but I think he left part of his soul there.
It is strange and cosmically freaky to understand both your parents as well as I do. My Dad certainly isn’t going to win any awards for great parenting, but for some reason I seem to “get” him. A lot of other kids would be disappointed in an alcoholic father who never did much for them growing up. The truth is I was for many years. Then I realized being angry with him, or anyone for that matter, only destroys you.
As much as I fear understanding my Dad, I’m also pretty thankful for it. I know what I don’t want out of life and some of his tendencies were certainly passed on. It is up to us to pick and choose what we want to draw from the people who made us. Just like dear old Dad, I find myself pacing around my imagined cage quite often itching to hit the open road and never be pinned down. I also feel no one will ever understand me and I definitely would like to find a way to escape being myself. He found his in the bottle, but I’m looking for a happier exit.
I’ve thought a lot about taking my Dad on one last adventure. It would be a great excuse for me to escape the office and see the country. I also think it would allow us to share in the one past time we are both passionate about. Just a father and son on the open road. The reality is he can no longer sit long enough to drive any distance. His spirit is as free as a bird, but his body is as broken as a wishbone. Someday soon, I’ll be taking a road trip across the country with an urn riding shotgun. Right now, I can not feel anything but the ping of destiny at that thought.
My dad is currently one of many relatives with cancer. A few months back he told me he wants to be cremated. Then, he wants me to take his ashes to New Mexico and find a spot where I don’t hear any sign of human life and pour him there. I’m sure this is weird to some people, but if you know my Dad it makes sense. Growing up, he always wanted to be a cowboy, so when he was a teenager he ran away from home and worked for several months on a ranch in New Mexico. My grandparents came and got him, but I think he left part of his soul there.
It is strange and cosmically freaky to understand both your parents as well as I do. My Dad certainly isn’t going to win any awards for great parenting, but for some reason I seem to “get” him. A lot of other kids would be disappointed in an alcoholic father who never did much for them growing up. The truth is I was for many years. Then I realized being angry with him, or anyone for that matter, only destroys you.
As much as I fear understanding my Dad, I’m also pretty thankful for it. I know what I don’t want out of life and some of his tendencies were certainly passed on. It is up to us to pick and choose what we want to draw from the people who made us. Just like dear old Dad, I find myself pacing around my imagined cage quite often itching to hit the open road and never be pinned down. I also feel no one will ever understand me and I definitely would like to find a way to escape being myself. He found his in the bottle, but I’m looking for a happier exit.
I’ve thought a lot about taking my Dad on one last adventure. It would be a great excuse for me to escape the office and see the country. I also think it would allow us to share in the one past time we are both passionate about. Just a father and son on the open road. The reality is he can no longer sit long enough to drive any distance. His spirit is as free as a bird, but his body is as broken as a wishbone. Someday soon, I’ll be taking a road trip across the country with an urn riding shotgun. Right now, I can not feel anything but the ping of destiny at that thought.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home