I got what I wanted and I dont know how to feel...
Sigh...before I talk about what happened today...I need to show the current context of the event. This is an entry I wrote in June about how I feel about things then. Those emotions are back in a different way and I will explain that later.
I have been thinking about alot of different things all at once and its reaching a boiling point so I am here writing, fighting the silent tears that always seem to fall at "inopportune" times. I am here thinking about my dad, love, my faith, the positions of leadership that I will be in, the pain that just wont leave, what God has being dealing with me about, the loneliness that has become my daily bread,and list continues. My mind is just so spread that one would thik I am crazy, and well maybe I am crazy.
So, the stinging that I felt on Monday has not gone away, it has grown. The hole in my soul is massive. Kirk Franklin as sung by Fred Hammond is right:
There's a hole in my soul
that won't heal
And there's a rage and a pain
and even now I still feel
And even though I'm a man
Still I don't understand
But that's what happen when you don't have a father
That's what happens when you don't have a father
What does that mean? It's how I really feel. Sure, I have grown in grace and the knowledge of God as 2 Peter 3:18, but the pain of not having that resolved has increased in the light of my being elevated to different leadership roles. I am respected enough to be chosen to lead but hell i am going to have another fathers day alone, not because he has died (which the finality of death I can manage) but because he is AWOL. The air is so heavy with years of rejection and silence. The hopefulness of my youth is fading...who in the world am I kidding has faded to a sad ember. I can continue to try and restart the flame and reignite it because my family wants me to bear this burden. I cant let them down...can I!?
I feel the rage...though not at him, not at God, the rage that I feel is pointed at me. Its an indignation from the pits of my stomach towards myself. WHY? I feel as though I am the culprit deserving my fathers lack of love, deserving to be alone, deserving to left behind used by everyone to help them heal and tossed aside. But, that flame that wont go out is fighting back its all just a war inside of me that I cant explain.
So what does that have to do with anything? Good question...(to be honest writing this entry has forced me to go back and look at how I deal with and spoke about things). I have been speaking in ambiguous terms, today my father called me after seven (nine since I saw him) years (count them...I was in middle school...) of painful and distant silence. The conversation was the most unreal and deeply saddening conversations I have had. Here the very thing I have been praying for happened, and my intial reaction was 'why?' and 'what is wrong?' The conversation consisted essentially of this: we talked for a few minutes...basically told me time after time he loved me...he said that he is now able to call people that he is working to put his life together...that I could call him at anytime and that he wants to come and see me...that he wants to get all of his children together...
Well, that was nice, but what makes me sad is me...the fact that I cannot find that hopefullness that I had in my youth, that I cannot standing my inability to react without a sense of sad praxis. I love my father I really do, but I dont want to be wounded again. Sadly, hearing his voice opened those scars anew, did not do what I had hoped heal them. The pain and fear and worry is back just as fresh as that entry. I want to see him, but seeing him may not fufill anything. Right now, I have noone here that understands my current paternal relationship issues...alot of explaining would have to happen...There is still that hole in my soul that I cant open up to a friend. The wounded child in me cries out, "But, I need a friend not my mommy right now...I love her...and she would be right when she says you should be happy...but its much more complicated than that...is that so wrong?" But, tonight I will console myself alone...praying deeply and sadly I cant cry...it wont pour out of me.
Last June...wow irony...I wrote an intense letter (it took 3 months to get it right to send it at Father's Day). I am going to leave with portions of that...
Yes, Dad, I am writing to you. You have no idea how much I have agonized over this letter. What to say, how to say it. I have been struggling to find a way to say to you everything that I want to say, in a way that is satisfactory to me on paper. I am driven by this sense of urgency, this feeling that I am running out of time to build a relationship with the man, the person, I call “Father.” I feel that I have wasted those six years we have not seen each other and really have not talked to one another. That I have not tried hard enough to reach you…that I was just satisfied with just saying I called you and rambled to your answering machine. This letter should not have been my cop-out because some counselor in the Wake Forest Counseling Center wants me to. This letter should not be the culmination of my distress about you, my worry for you, and my hatred of not having a relationship with you. So, I am still here typing this letter trying to tell you about thirteen years of my life.
Dad…
You know it’s weird,
To go without your dad.
I guess that it shouldn’t be,
I have done that most of my life.
I never really had the Leave to Beaver,
Tossing ball out back, father/son talks, kinda youth.
I had you there, dad; but it was more as ghost.
I never had you there at the games, the shows, the major events.
I went through elementary school,
Excelled and overachieved,
Anchored the school news,
Then produced it…
Was respected,
Played soccer, baseball, and basketball,
Learned piano,
Joined the Burlington Boys Choir,
sang in the White House twice,
Traveled the eastern seaboard,
Learned so much about God,
Grew up in Burlington,
Made many friends.
I flew through middle school,
Graduated from the BBC,
Excelled and Overachieved,
Took highest level courses available,
Danced and sang and played
Was in Annie and The Wizard of Oz
Bert Healy and FDR, and the Cowardly Lion
Loved and laughed,
Hugged and Cried,
I grew up, expanded my horizons.
I lived high school,
I worked high school,
I became high school,
I started to become a man, a mirror image,
A mirror image of you, the Dad that I never saw.
I performed in musicals: 42nd Street, Singin’ In the Rain, Crazy for You,
I became a musical leader; I began to arrange music,
I helped write three Homecoming musicals,
I showed off my intelligence and speed by leading High IQ, Quiz Bowl, Brain Game
teams.
I became a friend to many and family to others.
I ran five times for Student Government, lost each time.
I became a leader in the North Carolina 4-h Program.
I became helped arrange and transcribe music for a Musical Revue,
I traveled to Italy twice with my chorus and Germany/Austria once,
I fell in love with the world outside,
And saddened at the same time.
I began to shape my purpose, my direction in life…
I became a teddy bear…
Dad, I have so much to tell you,
So much…
You have missed my life, so far
You have never seen the tears I cried for you,
You never felt my heart break because I could not see you,
Could not touch you, hug you…
You have never seen the joy that I have when performing,
The agony, the pain, the emotion.
You missed the moments of quiet reflection,
When I prayed for hours just for you.
This is what you have missed.
This who I am, I am a mirror image of you…
An image in a broken mirror…
Dad?
Ernest Lewis, Jr.
December 4, 2004
Dad, this was the poem that I was going to send to you for Christmas or your birthday, but I just did not have the courage. I have been fighting myself to write this. I want to be so angry at you. I want to scream and holler at you. I want to tell you that I feel like I have been betrayed. I want show you those countless moments that I would cling to your promises that you come and never coming…The times I happily hoped with the innocent faith of a child that you would show up at my door. The times I stared out of the window just hoping that you would appear and give me a hug and stay forever. I have had flashbacks to being that child hoping beyond all hope. I have been sent back to that window many times thinking about you. But, I can’t be angry at you. I cannot. Because you are my father and love you much more than I could ever be angry at you. I need you back in my life. I want stop worrying because I have not talked to you. Worrying about whether you are ok. I want to find out about you from you, not from my Aunt Barbara. I need to know that you are ok, before I could ever be fully ok myself. I need you. I need some guidance on how to become a man…I want to know I am loved by my father. I don’t want have a shadow of a father; I want to have a father. I don’t want the next time I see you, be your funeral; with me standing over your coffin with a burden of regret that I did not try hard enough to make contact. The Lord knows, that I want to show you everything I have done, everyone I have met, the places I have been. I refuse to leave this plane, this earth without having our relationship back. I will be here still looking out of the window, waiting, listening to hear you voice again. Even, if it takes a lifetime.
I am sorry for the length and cutting and pasting...i have a feeling like the last entry that noone will respond. It really doesnt matter. I am out.
Much Love,
ErnDawg
I have been thinking about alot of different things all at once and its reaching a boiling point so I am here writing, fighting the silent tears that always seem to fall at "inopportune" times. I am here thinking about my dad, love, my faith, the positions of leadership that I will be in, the pain that just wont leave, what God has being dealing with me about, the loneliness that has become my daily bread,and list continues. My mind is just so spread that one would thik I am crazy, and well maybe I am crazy.
So, the stinging that I felt on Monday has not gone away, it has grown. The hole in my soul is massive. Kirk Franklin as sung by Fred Hammond is right:
There's a hole in my soul
that won't heal
And there's a rage and a pain
and even now I still feel
And even though I'm a man
Still I don't understand
But that's what happen when you don't have a father
That's what happens when you don't have a father
What does that mean? It's how I really feel. Sure, I have grown in grace and the knowledge of God as 2 Peter 3:18, but the pain of not having that resolved has increased in the light of my being elevated to different leadership roles. I am respected enough to be chosen to lead but hell i am going to have another fathers day alone, not because he has died (which the finality of death I can manage) but because he is AWOL. The air is so heavy with years of rejection and silence. The hopefulness of my youth is fading...who in the world am I kidding has faded to a sad ember. I can continue to try and restart the flame and reignite it because my family wants me to bear this burden. I cant let them down...can I!?
I feel the rage...though not at him, not at God, the rage that I feel is pointed at me. Its an indignation from the pits of my stomach towards myself. WHY? I feel as though I am the culprit deserving my fathers lack of love, deserving to be alone, deserving to left behind used by everyone to help them heal and tossed aside. But, that flame that wont go out is fighting back its all just a war inside of me that I cant explain.
So what does that have to do with anything? Good question...(to be honest writing this entry has forced me to go back and look at how I deal with and spoke about things). I have been speaking in ambiguous terms, today my father called me after seven (nine since I saw him) years (count them...I was in middle school...) of painful and distant silence. The conversation was the most unreal and deeply saddening conversations I have had. Here the very thing I have been praying for happened, and my intial reaction was 'why?' and 'what is wrong?' The conversation consisted essentially of this: we talked for a few minutes...basically told me time after time he loved me...he said that he is now able to call people that he is working to put his life together...that I could call him at anytime and that he wants to come and see me...that he wants to get all of his children together...
Well, that was nice, but what makes me sad is me...the fact that I cannot find that hopefullness that I had in my youth, that I cannot standing my inability to react without a sense of sad praxis. I love my father I really do, but I dont want to be wounded again. Sadly, hearing his voice opened those scars anew, did not do what I had hoped heal them. The pain and fear and worry is back just as fresh as that entry. I want to see him, but seeing him may not fufill anything. Right now, I have noone here that understands my current paternal relationship issues...alot of explaining would have to happen...There is still that hole in my soul that I cant open up to a friend. The wounded child in me cries out, "But, I need a friend not my mommy right now...I love her...and she would be right when she says you should be happy...but its much more complicated than that...is that so wrong?" But, tonight I will console myself alone...praying deeply and sadly I cant cry...it wont pour out of me.
Last June...wow irony...I wrote an intense letter (it took 3 months to get it right to send it at Father's Day). I am going to leave with portions of that...
Yes, Dad, I am writing to you. You have no idea how much I have agonized over this letter. What to say, how to say it. I have been struggling to find a way to say to you everything that I want to say, in a way that is satisfactory to me on paper. I am driven by this sense of urgency, this feeling that I am running out of time to build a relationship with the man, the person, I call “Father.” I feel that I have wasted those six years we have not seen each other and really have not talked to one another. That I have not tried hard enough to reach you…that I was just satisfied with just saying I called you and rambled to your answering machine. This letter should not have been my cop-out because some counselor in the Wake Forest Counseling Center wants me to. This letter should not be the culmination of my distress about you, my worry for you, and my hatred of not having a relationship with you. So, I am still here typing this letter trying to tell you about thirteen years of my life.
Dad…
You know it’s weird,
To go without your dad.
I guess that it shouldn’t be,
I have done that most of my life.
I never really had the Leave to Beaver,
Tossing ball out back, father/son talks, kinda youth.
I had you there, dad; but it was more as ghost.
I never had you there at the games, the shows, the major events.
I went through elementary school,
Excelled and overachieved,
Anchored the school news,
Then produced it…
Was respected,
Played soccer, baseball, and basketball,
Learned piano,
Joined the Burlington Boys Choir,
sang in the White House twice,
Traveled the eastern seaboard,
Learned so much about God,
Grew up in Burlington,
Made many friends.
I flew through middle school,
Graduated from the BBC,
Excelled and Overachieved,
Took highest level courses available,
Danced and sang and played
Was in Annie and The Wizard of Oz
Bert Healy and FDR, and the Cowardly Lion
Loved and laughed,
Hugged and Cried,
I grew up, expanded my horizons.
I lived high school,
I worked high school,
I became high school,
I started to become a man, a mirror image,
A mirror image of you, the Dad that I never saw.
I performed in musicals: 42nd Street, Singin’ In the Rain, Crazy for You,
I became a musical leader; I began to arrange music,
I helped write three Homecoming musicals,
I showed off my intelligence and speed by leading High IQ, Quiz Bowl, Brain Game
teams.
I became a friend to many and family to others.
I ran five times for Student Government, lost each time.
I became a leader in the North Carolina 4-h Program.
I became helped arrange and transcribe music for a Musical Revue,
I traveled to Italy twice with my chorus and Germany/Austria once,
I fell in love with the world outside,
And saddened at the same time.
I began to shape my purpose, my direction in life…
I became a teddy bear…
Dad, I have so much to tell you,
So much…
You have missed my life, so far
You have never seen the tears I cried for you,
You never felt my heart break because I could not see you,
Could not touch you, hug you…
You have never seen the joy that I have when performing,
The agony, the pain, the emotion.
You missed the moments of quiet reflection,
When I prayed for hours just for you.
This is what you have missed.
This who I am, I am a mirror image of you…
An image in a broken mirror…
Dad?
Ernest Lewis, Jr.
December 4, 2004
Dad, this was the poem that I was going to send to you for Christmas or your birthday, but I just did not have the courage. I have been fighting myself to write this. I want to be so angry at you. I want to scream and holler at you. I want to tell you that I feel like I have been betrayed. I want show you those countless moments that I would cling to your promises that you come and never coming…The times I happily hoped with the innocent faith of a child that you would show up at my door. The times I stared out of the window just hoping that you would appear and give me a hug and stay forever. I have had flashbacks to being that child hoping beyond all hope. I have been sent back to that window many times thinking about you. But, I can’t be angry at you. I cannot. Because you are my father and love you much more than I could ever be angry at you. I need you back in my life. I want stop worrying because I have not talked to you. Worrying about whether you are ok. I want to find out about you from you, not from my Aunt Barbara. I need to know that you are ok, before I could ever be fully ok myself. I need you. I need some guidance on how to become a man…I want to know I am loved by my father. I don’t want have a shadow of a father; I want to have a father. I don’t want the next time I see you, be your funeral; with me standing over your coffin with a burden of regret that I did not try hard enough to make contact. The Lord knows, that I want to show you everything I have done, everyone I have met, the places I have been. I refuse to leave this plane, this earth without having our relationship back. I will be here still looking out of the window, waiting, listening to hear you voice again. Even, if it takes a lifetime.
I am sorry for the length and cutting and pasting...i have a feeling like the last entry that noone will respond. It really doesnt matter. I am out.
Much Love,
ErnDawg