Notes to Dad

 Dad,

It's been 3 1/2 years now since your passing, and I still think of you all the time, I believe literally every single day. I hope that never changes. I had been told that would last a year or two before I would notice that the daily thoughts had faded into longer intervals. But with you, the daily thoughts have remained, and I'm glad for that.

But even as I love you, the daily thoughts are not always pleasant or fond.

Something jumped in my spirit this morning as I was listening to an audio book. The author was sharing a story from decades ago, when he was busy writing a manuscript that later became a book, and received word that his father had passed away the previous day. The author described quickly packing up and traveling to his hometown for his father's funeral, and then dedicating the book he was completing both to his mother and to the memory of his father. 

Naturally, any story of someone losing their father makes me think of you.

And right now, my feelings about you are a little more raw than they were a few years ago.

I have two sons of my own, who are coming of age, so I know intimately the kind of flexibility it takes for a parent to be what their child needs them to be. No child grows up into a clone of their parent, or at least it's not likely that they will, and I doubt any thinking parent would want them to. I don't think you wanted me to. Both of my sons have grown up into young people so different from each other and so different from anything I imagined for them. 

So, as a parent, yeah...it can be a game of Twister.

And no, it isn't always easy or comfortable.

That's just how it is. I kind of thought everyone knew that.

So the gnawing, nagging question that will haunt me till we meet again is this:

Why was your devotion to abstract ideas so important as to allow there to be a barrier between you and me for years, a barrier that probably could not have been broken down, no matter how long you had lived?

Why were your religious and political commitments more important than a connection to me?

How could you do that?

I am a parent who is as flawed as anyone, and I don't plan on giving much advice, but I could never do that, or allow that to be. I am living this right now, so I can speak with integrity. When it comes to my children, I would rearrange my world, no matter how hard that was for me, to ensure they could feel comfortable in it, not expect them to come to me on my terms only.

And something just hit me now, as I wrote that last line:  That's how you viewed God.

You viewed God as "my way or no way", with human beings bearing the entire responsibility to come to God on God's terms only or simply be shunned, with everyone expected to be content to live with that, so maybe it makes some sense that this mindset had some level of permission to take root in other relationships as well.

But still, even though I "get it" more than most people would, because I was raised in your world, I still can hardly believe it, when facing it in real life, with my children growing up in front of me, becoming their own people but still needing me to hold them, emotionally, in just the same way I did when they were born, and when they were little.

I needed you to hold me that way, too.

Every kid needs that, even after they're grown, and even after they've become different from their parents. 

I think especially then.

Every kid needs from their parent what you never believed God would give to anyone.

When I frame it like that, I realize it may not be fair to you. It's a framing that is especially unflattering to your belief system, and probably not exactly the way you framed it. But I know your belief system intimately, and I have arrived at this framing through living it, so I think my perspective should be respected and not tossed aside as a jab from a biased opponent.

And I think this framing captures what I see as the fork in the road where we separated and eventually could barely see one another anymore.

I tried to be open with you in the way I could.

I know it was ridiculous that my statement to the entire family about changing church affiliations had to come via email rather than an in-person conversation. Believe me, I was embarrassed to announce such personal news to loved ones in that way, and I was ashamed of what this meant for the nature of our relationship.

But your response made clear why I felt I had to do it that way.

And when you immediately went from engaging enthusiastically with my spiritual writings online to ceasing all connection with my blog postings, the message was clear, and the validation was unmistakable that I had made the right choice in not trying to engage you in person about the most important decisions I was working through at the time. 

I knew then that I had become radioactive to my own father, because of religion and politics.

And that's where we finished our relationship in this life.

This breaks my heart, but it also angers me, because I don't believe this was necessary, and I think you were wise enough to have known better.

And as we carry on in this ever-sinking political hellscape around us, and the political and religious personalities you once identified with are becoming more openly hateful in the public sphere, I shudder to think where you might have been by now had you not died in January 2021.

I wonder whether there could have been any hope that you might have seen your conservative heroes as the Christian Nationalists and Fascists they are now proving themselves to be, or whether you would have followed them headlong. I wonder if you would have turned back from the edge and maybe reached out for me, or if you would be flying an Appeal to Heaven flag by now.

I wonder, but I'm afraid I know.

This is probably why, since your passing, I have leaned heavily into my memories of a younger version of you. Yes, this version of you was more hot-headed and scared me sometimes, but I'll take that over the more political version that evolved later and was apparently content to live across a chasm from me.

The younger version of you was angrier about more trivial things, but more normal about the big stuff.

The younger version of you still loved sports, and cheered on our favorite teams with me by his side. Oh, how I loved that, and how I miss it. I wish he had not let this flame die in his later life. I think it could have been a very healthy connection to stay engaged with something so joyful.

The younger version of you took pride in his Marine Corps service, yes, but this had not yet turned into scorn or superiority toward others.

The younger version of you preached a simple, direct gospel that no one would perceive as being infused with a larger ideology.

The younger version of you was always perceived by others as Mexican-American, though he didn't speak Spanish and identified more with white culture, and was struggling more than I realized with how to work out this identity, but this version of you would never have made room in his world for anyone or anything even tangentially connected to white supremacy. I cannot fathom how you became comfortable in the right-wing world you did later on, so I reach back further to the brown young Californian I remember in the late 70's and early 80's, and the deep, DNA-level pride I took in everyone telling me I looked just like him.

I dream of a scene with me now, 50 years old, treating that young guy to tickets to Dodger Stadium, and taking in a game and a Dodger Dog while we visit freely about how our lives turned out, no inhibition, no filters, no gauging whether topics are safe, rejoicing in how we can see it all better now, how we never should have allowed distance to develop between us, how we now curse the names of every person who created a religious and political world that would separate a parent from their child, how we needed each other more than those power-seekers needed another voter.

This is my Resurrection dream, my Easter fantasy.

This is what I want from Jesus.

This is what I want from you, and hope to give to you someday when we meet again.

I needed to say all this, Dad, but I say all this while still saying that I love you. They say the opposite of love is not hatred, but apathy, and I hope you know my feelings toward you are anything but apathy. 

You don't think every day about someone you don't care about. 

Rest now, Dad, and if you have awareness of me, know that every Sunday as I recite the Nicene Creed, which you would have considered a form of false religion or idolatry, when I say the words "...we look for the resurrection of the dead..." and make the sign of the cross, I am thinking of you. 

I am imagining that conversation we could never have when you were here.

May it be so someday, Dad. May it be so.

Amen.

Proud of You, Son II

May 19, 2024 

 

Jonathan,

 

What to say, man?

 

How many parents look at their 17 year-old and say, "This kid is so ready"? 

Not many.

I continue to be amazed at the steps you have taken and continue to take in life. I still remember that dinner when Ben said to you, "Dude, you're goin' places! I think you could make Drum Major!" There was something about him saying those words, a ripple in the space-time continuum, a movement in The Force, a whisper from the Holy Spirit...I don't think I will ever forget that moment. It was such a bold thing to say, almost too bold, too brazen, a little unsettling, just thrown out there with a confidence beyond what the rest of us at the table felt at the time, yet so clear and accurate as to be prophetic.

 

Now?

 

LOL.

 

Now, it just seems plain obvious. Of course you made Drum Major. Of course you were a leading part of the quickest course correction in the history of the Screaming Eagle Band. Of course you auditioned for Phantom Regiment. Of course the Phantom staff was amazed by this 16 year-old kid from Texas and decided they needed to get him into the fold before another corps could get him. Of course you received the John Phillip Sousa award as a Junior, a feat I don't recall seeing before at Ellison. Of course you played a rousing jazz solo that brought the house down and mesmerized a sleeveless, intimidating, but appreciative jazz fan at the Spring Show.

 

It all seems obvious now, but no. It wasn't obvious, and it didn't just happen.

 

It had to be spoken first. 

 

It had to be seen in the imagination before it could become a reality, and it only became a reality through an awful lot of hard, unglamorous work. Your work. Your imagination. Your devotion to your craft. Your relationships with mentors and fellow musicians. Your self-discipline and your talent.

 

As you now embark on this summer tour, I hope you will remember Ben's words and his faith in you, remember your fellow Drum Majors here at Ellison who are so intensely proud of you they can't contain it, remember your fellow Band members here who love and respect you so much, and are probably telling people about how their Head Drum Major is touring with Phantom Regiment. 

 

Remember your Band Directors from Liberty Hill who planted those early seeds and watered the soil. Remember Mr. Smith and Mr. Young, who made an imprint on your life in the closing moments of their careers, even if that imprint was sometimes comical, sometimes distracted by the computer screen and not really listening to you, sometimes more an example of playing it safe and running out the clock, but also an example of a lasting legacy and generations of excellent teaching. Remember Mr. Younger, who has shown such courage in literally stepping into his father's footsteps, and Mr. Ballard, who has shown such grace in finding his niche and giving everyone time to come to appreciate him.

 

Remember Mr. Reynolds, who made you a Drum Major, opened the door to DCI and, most of all, set an example of how to replace a legend, how to survive the trials of a new beginning, how to endure the rejections of the old guard who won't let go of the predecessor, how to face heartbreak, how to envision a recovery and assemble the team that can bring it about, how to be joyful even when things are hard, how to be funny without ever being mean, how to own success and failure, how to share credit but take blame, how to keep it real without ever being bitter, how to let your work speak for itself so you don't have to brag, how to be a person of faith whose circle is inclusive to all.

 

Remember your people back at St. Joseph's, who will miss you more than you can imagine, and will be asking for updates every time they see us. Don't view the tour as something that pulls you away from God or your family of faith, but rather as an opportunity to be God's fully inclusive, loving presence, in your own way, in the way the Spirit forms it in you. I believe this tour will show you something about God and faith that you couldn't learn at home. Yes, we are keeping our fingers crossed that you might be able to visit a few Episcopal churches along the way, but know that this is not a matter of trying to control you, but rather, a knowledge on our part that churches you visit in other places become treasures in your memory, often landmarks of unanticipated blessing, and we want that for you.

 

Remember your brother, even as both of you are drawn into the gravitational pulls of your adult lives, which bring different journeys and different destinations, even as your life becomes joyfully filled with friends and mentors whose paths and personalities are more similar to yours than Ben's is. Sibling relationships come in wide varieties, and you and Ben have one that is unique. Don't let the path between you and him become overgrown and hard to travel. Don't be like me and my brothers. Keep a connection, even if it takes a deliberate effort, and even if it doesn't seem like it matters right now. It will matter someday, and the connection will only be strong if you make it strong.

 

Most all of, while you're on tour, remember your sweet Mom.

 

She has been the mainstay your entire life, and has facilitated all the amazing things you have done, from gymnastics to dance to tee ball to Upward basketball to Mary Poppins to Camp Broadway, and on and on. More than that, she is a daily comfort, a safe place where everything is always going to be OK, the provider of the magic of home wherever you happen to be. She is so proud of you and so excited about all this, but also has very mixed feelings about her baby being gone, even if just for the summer. Don't be too busy for her, even as you move closer to your adult life. This summer will be your Mom's first taste of not having you in the house, and she will be adjusting to your absence every minute.

As for me, rest assured I'll be holding it down in your absence, and walking around with a Jonathan-shaped hole in the middle of my heart, treasuring every text and Facetime, glancing into your bedroom for no reason, hearing your voice at the dinner table telling me a story, counting down the days till I see you again when Mom and I come up to join the tour in late June.

 

But most of all, just know that I am busting with pride in you and in what you are doing, and filled with confidence about your readiness for this challenge in your life. I'm so pumped about the tour, so excited about the new friends you will make, so hopeful about the new mentor relationships you will build with professionals in your field who will help you begin your own career someday, and so eager to see the young man you will be on the other side of this experience, heading into your senior year at EHS.

 

There will be times this summer when you really miss home, when you really miss us, when you miss your friends back here, when you wonder what on earth you are doing so far away. There will be times when you are enjoying yourself so much that it all feels perfect, and there will be times when you are so busy and working so hard you don't have time to feel anything. All of this is normal, and will be right for the moment you are in. Let the feelings flow when they flow.

 

Prepare yourself for the hits and the misses. There will be moments when you nail it, and moments when you don't. There will be moments of success, and moments of defeat, moments when this feels no different than conducting the band here at Ellison, and moments when this feels so much harder than anything you have done before.

 

And in this high-stakes environment, the moments of struggle will be more biting and painful than what you are used to in your high school band life. The directors will be harsher, the criticism more severe, than what you have received at EHS. It hurts to know that our child may be out there hurting because of the words of a frustrated authority figure, and we won't be there to comfort him. We may never even know it happened. Just know we are there in spirit, and always just a text away, ready to listen, and you have what it takes to overcome and succeed. If you didn't, we would not have sent you. 

 

Celebrate the wins, take the hits, shed the tears, face yourself in the mirror, hug your conductors, and then set your mind to grow and improve, and let the directors see you as a person who is growing into a future conductor in your own right. And know that we are holding you close in our hearts every minute of what will be a life-changing summer.

 

At the end of it all, I am just so stinking proud of you.

 

I love you, son, more than I can even say. 

Thank you for being who you are, and remember we are always here.