The Bloody Doors Off

What the fuck am I even doing here?

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Graphic designer, playwright, occasional asshole

Moving Mountain(s)

When Mohammed can’t come to the mountain, the mountain will come to Mohammed.

My father called Thursday, asking if I wanted to meet him today for lunch.

This is not news. We do this on occasion; usually when he’s working. Like he was today.

What’s surprising was the venue.

If I wanted to see my dad, I traveled to meet him.  Either I made the trek into Scarborough, or downtown near where he works.

This time, he asked if there was a restaurant in my ‘hood that I’d like to go to.

That sound you hear is a pin drop.

I suspect — and thank, if true — my brothers for putting the thought in his head. They’ve come with me to my psychiatrist a couple of times and I’d mentioned this.

And voila.

More surprising? He suggested coming back into my neighbourhood again.

Pin drop.

The conversation was, for the most part, the one we always have. He talks about winning on Pro-Line (it’s a running gag among Kevin, Wayne and I), work, etc. Only this time he talked a bit more about family. I got to talk a bit about my upgraded diagnosis (nothing too heavy; I’m not going to send him into shutdown mode).

And he shared something else. I won’t detail it here because, it’s his to live with. But my first thought was “well that’s bullshit”. And then I realized, no, not really. It’s truth to him, and it was told to him as truth. Though I suspect it was a lie to protect his feelings, on a very passive-aggressive level. He accepts it as gospel because he needs to.

I couldn’t do that.

Back in 2007, I had my heart broken. It was brutal. And I was told 90% of the truth. But I suspected something else wasn’t being said, because they truly cared enough about me and didn’t want to cause more pain that was already happening. Only I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let it be the whole truth. And I learned what that 10% was (and in hindsight I can completely say ‘thank you for trying to spare me this hurt’), and that minor percentage crippled me. If I was in my father’s shoes and this was told to me, I’d see through it, or think I saw through it, and wouldn’t let up until the entire truth was out.

And it would destroy me.

So maybe that’s why he lives with this as his truth. Because the alternative would be devastating.

Is he better off? Am I?

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2 responses to “Moving Mountain(s)”

  1. Harold Avatar
    Harold

    Hey P! Thanks for posting this. Having read it a few times, I think that it contains a great deal of wisdom. I would or might say it contains the truth, or even the ponderous “truths” (if there can be more than one definition), but it is valuable. On that note, I believe that facts are just truths without the varnish, but sometimes, we need to put the varnish on in order to make things more opaque, hidden, protected or less prickly. I don’t want to get too abstract as I’ll confuse myself on the way to some meaning … but I for one remain proud of you. I also derive value from the insights and the honest comments you share. Sometimes we need the varnish to protect ourselves, or to protect others, or to protect others from our hurting selves when we wish to shock them with our jagged feelings – especially ones of blame and anger. But each of us has to move forward. Maybe, forgiveness is like paint thinner, leaving us with the facts, but helping us get rid of the vitriol, the angst and the deceptions. On a final note, I like the end of Bladerunner, where I believe Rutger Hauer saves Harrison Ford’s life. HF reflects on the act and then ponders whether anyone really knows how much time they have left. I hope that you continue to find more bright days as the seasons change. Take care.

    Reply
  2. bigpoppaevil Avatar
    bigpoppaevil

    Very thought provoking. I like how you see it. It helps me put it in even more perspective. Thanks! 🙂

    Reply

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