Incoming Letters

 I got the following note from a much-beloved, too-rarely-seen, ancient, ancient friend of mine, who heard of my father's passing through one of those grapevine word-of-mouth things I can only marvel at.

Dear Seaweed:

Just wanted to write and express my condolences upon the death of your father.

We only get one Dad – imperfect, heroic, frustrating, lovable, and much to be missed.

I wish his best qualities to be nurtured and strengthened in you.

And the fondest memories enriched.

Big M

I have let thoughts burble up to the surface as they will over the last 10 days - not forcing them or trying to control them, not judging them, not marking them as good or bad, just watching them float up out of the murk.  As I took a long, satisfying, introvert-caressing hike through the mountains east of my home yesterday I worked this letter over in my mind.

My response follows:

Big M:

I wanted to thank you again for your note on balance and acceptance.  It came at a time when I was struggling to accept my father's imperfections and rejoice at his strengths.  I did, after all, get my sense of humor directly from the man and my hair-trigger temper, too.

I wrote yesterday about how he must have felt as a sportsman, athlete, church deacon to have spawned such a wimpy child of chaos.  It must have been a burden from time to time - even knowing that he loved me and accepted me to a large degree.  I wonder what went through his mind when I said: "I won't be there for Christmas - I'm going to be on the Mekong River in Cambodia."  Fuckin' kid, he probably thought.

I'm also working hard to maintain a sense of balance about my behavior.  I think right after death - the ultimate, undisputed, irrevocable slamming of a door, a no-parallel event, no nuance, no going back, no bargaining, no second chances - there's a very human tendency to feel regret over our own failings.  As in: "Dad's pretty old - maybe I should hold off on the Mekong until next year."  

I'm not wobbling too far out of balance, I don't think, but I am trying to be vigilant about keeping my thinking on an even plane.

Much love,
Seaweed