In the last year, I have changed a lot. Or at least that's what I feel... in a way, I feel I've grown up. I am still not much of an adult and I kept wondering, lately, what does adulthood mean? We all have definitions for this, mine is like 'finding answers'. There are many questions we all ask ourselves, some of them rather trivial and some of them deeply existential.
I like simple things and I hate big statements. I get goose bumps whenever I hear sentences which try to be existential statements... beginnings such as 'it is normal', 'it is good', 'it is bad' awaken the punk inside me and make me wanna grin and ask - 'says WHO?'. In this sense, I strongly believe in subjective values and individual definitions. Well... apparently my time has come to ask the existential questions and, when trying to provide them with simple (but personal) answers, I realized I am utterly lost, at least for half of the answer.... When we wonder about life, we answer based on our family model and on our personal experience. And if the latter I have plenty... I almost completely lack the former.
A couple of nights ago, I dreamt of my father... we were in a room and he wouldn't talk to me. I don't remember what was it all about, but I was right and he wouldn't want to acknowledge this. The room suddenly turned into Hell (yep, THAT Hell) and blood started to infiltrate into the room from all the corners of the walls. It was dark and I was calm, almost happy - finally, my father was in the place he belong to. In Hell.
For a long time I rejected the idea that our family of origin determines who we are and what we become... and I still do, but with one notice - our family of origin gives us a lot of indirect knowledge. We do not know directly, before we experience it in our own families which we later on build, what does it mean to have a family; all we know is what we had home. And from this point of view... I wish I was an orphan. There are not enough words and not enough good thoughts in this world to appreciate what my grandparents did for me, namely extracted me from that wasp nest which my family was.... but this is not my main point now.
I learnt very little to nothing from my father. Our relation, if we can call it as such, was a troubled one and the main influence it had over me was to teach me to compete. He has a bad mouth and whenever he was giving me some blurry discourse, I would look at him and think - one day, you will get it all back. From me, with interest.
Now, I changed my mind. I don't want to return him any of the favours. I actually hope that I will never see him again in this life and, if I am very lucky or I get myself a good karma (note to self - save some orphans from drowning if you get the chance) in none of my future lives. After one bad argument I decided it'd be a good time to stop pretending that he exists. Well... so far it worked wonders. Once his existence ceased (for me, he might still be alive), my own existence improved drastically. My inner peace was never again troubled by his existential dilemmas and dramas, I didn't have to pretend I like him or his new wife, I didn't have to listen to dumb life lessons or to smell the wine (after a life time of stuffing himself with alcohol, his smell changed and turned into a wine-like smell. I still hate wine).
Recently, I heard of him from some remote relative (first degree cousin but again... it doesn't look like you can cut the connections with only one member of the clan, so his entire branch of the family was erased as well from my present and future) and I realized he finally gave me a very important life lesson - one he never planned or intended to give, but he paradoxically succeeded to provide. That common relative said that he sold all his assets and entirely moved to his wife, where he decided to invest everything he gathered in 60 something years of life in her property.
To somehow have it clear - I never expected anything from him. Once I got out of his door and closed it behind me, I knew there would be no future for me and him and I should not expect anything, not even a final succession act. I don't need his money and I am doing perfectly fine without him. So when I heard the news, I simply shrugged. It was to be expected. Later on, as I was caught in a traffic jam, I started to think about it, wondering what the hell was he thinking of but that it is his choice. The thought of 'you'll get it back from me, with interest' crossed my mind for like 3 seconds but then again I wiped it off. I'd rather have my peace than his money.
The next thought was - it's his choice, to erase his own life. And then, the idea hit me... There are people who are losers for ever. I've always believed that being a loser is a punctual matter, that one becomes a loser only under certain circumstances and that it is, basically, a reversible situation. One can always prove himself to be otherwise. And then again, I thought of my father, and I realized I am wrong - there are people who would end up as losers, by voluntary choice and there is such a moment when it is too late to change this.
The thought of our own mortality becomes pretty clear after a certain age. You realize that life flies away too fast and that you have that inner need to submit your own candidacy for immortality. The older you get, the more you want to look behind and say - I achieved this or that, I am proud of myself for this or for that thing, I performed well, followed my dreams or plans, reached them and kept being active and strong. WRONG! Some people live never understanding yesterday and never really thinking about tomorrow. They play the victim and blame the circumstances for whatever they failed to do and they simply are too weak to try again. They are happy with losing but being able to complain about it and sometimes receiving some pity or some shallow petting on their shoulders - oh, poor you, what a victim you've been.
I look back at me and my father and think how hard I wanted to beat him down... but there was nothing there to be put down on its knees. He lost in every minute of his life, by not being able to build anything - a family, a child, a career. He is now retired and none of his former colleagues care whether he lives or he died some time ago. He is now old and the family where he spent almost 30 years of his life doesn't even make a phone call to ask him whether he is alive. He is now too old to have a child and the only one he had became too estranged to even think of him as a shadow of a parent. He didn't place a bet and he never played... just got carried away by life and didn't have the strength to play any of the rounds. He lost by presence, not by absence.
Now, in this last act of the drama, I find it amusing how he decided to voluntarily wipe off his own life and withdraw his candidacy to immortality. And by this, he finally taught me one thing... Cancelling his own life because of too much ego, wrongly directed, and because of too little will power to stand and even decide what he wants or not, he showed me that there is a time when it is too late, when you cannot revert. There is a moment in which you lost it all, if you ever had anything.
So... thank you, daddy. I won our long term match, so I mercifully give you what is yours - pity. Sorry, old man. You lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment