Father's Day is around the corner and I feel as if I haven't really painted my dad in the best light when I've written about him. (I have mentioned that he's not the same person I knew as a child. And that's probably the most credit I've really given him.) When I lived with my parents, dad was an emotional mess... and it showed in his violent abusive temper. As a kid, I was terrified of him. He was a ticking time-bomb and you never knew when he was going to blow! I remember changing the words to the primary song, "When Daddy Comes Home" to sing, "I'm so mad when daddy comes home, mad as I can be.... Put my hands around his neck and squeeze it tight like this. Smack his cheeks and give him what? A great big kick." I can't remember if I sang it out-loud like that but it was definitely in my head.
Dad began to seek help from the bishop when I was in highschool. It didn't start off well and I remember being so embarrassed when I heard from my mom that in dad's initial interview, he left the bishop's office rather livid, swearing and slamming the door on his ecclesiastical leader.
I never saw my dad cry until the year he attempted suicide three times. Late one night when everyone had gone to bed, I lay there sleeping when I was awakened by a strange sound. I listened closely. I could hear someone weeping from the family room down the hall. I climbed out of bed, silently peeked around the corner, and saw my dad kneeling in his bathrobe, praying out-loud and crying uncontrollably with deep and heavy sobs. It surprised me and something within my heart changed at that moment. The anger and resentment I felt for him was replaced by compassion and empathy. I knew I had to forgive him because he so desperately wanted to change. He hated himself for all he had done.
As I began to study the scriptures and become more involved in seminary, forgiving him became much easier. At that time in my life, I also learned some things about my dad's childhood that helped me understand his explosive behavior. And just recently, I've gained more perspective from reading "The Body Keeps the Score". I guess I never realized that he was a serious trauma victim!
My dad was the oldest of ten children. (It was a "your's-mine-and-our's" situation.) Even though he had nine younger siblings, his parents called him "Little Lee" to differentiate between him and his father (who he was named after). My dad had a lot of energy as a kid. (I don't know what normal boy doesn't.) But back then, his parents didn't understand it was normal and struggled desperately for ways to deal with it. They took him to a family therapist who poorly advised them, "Whenever 'little Lee' gets out of hand, tie him in a straight jacket away from the others in the basement until he 'calms' down."
That's how they dealt with it. Can you imagine??!
This was only the beginning of his trauma.
When he was nine, his mother passed away from breast cancer and two years later he lost his younger sister to Leukemia. His step-mother was young (almost 17 years younger than his father). She was terribly jealous of my dad's mom and would never let anyone grieve her loss.
As a teenager, my dad remembered one morning laying in bed and being awakened by a sharp stinging pain in his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see his step-mother standing over him glaring angrily. Dazed and confused, he tried to sooth the pain by rubbing his arm. He was bleeding and still in shock from such a rude awakening when he glanced down at the side of his bed and saw the shattered framed picture of his real mom on the floor. He looked back up to hear his step-mother rebuking him threateningly, "I don't ever want to see this picture hanging in your room again!!" (This is just one example of the abuse he faced but there were other moments like it.)
Despite all his trauma growing up, he served a church mission and when it was completed, he pursued a degree in elementary education and psychology. He says that living away from home in a dorm was the most free he had ever felt in his life. (I don't blame him.)
At the University, he made a lot of friends and was in a singing group. I always loved the fact that my dad liked to sing. He made a great baritone. I think music was healing for him. He loved to play the piano and the guitar. His favorite artists were Anne Murray, Cat Stevens, and Simon & Garfunkel. (I played all my dad's records and learned to love that genre. It was healing for me too.) We were in a choir together when I graduated from highschool. I'll never forget singing Handel's Messiah with him and the Oratorio Society of Utah at SLC's Tabernacle.
See, life wasn't all bad... I have other good memories of my father too: Dad loved camping and every summer we would visit a National Park as a family. He took tons of pictures everywhere we went. (I appreciate that so much more now than I did then.) He liked word games such as Boggle or Scrabble and strategy games like Chess (at least those are the ones I remember playing with him). Dad had a very dry sense of humor (he had a pun for everything) and any time he sneezed he tried to make it sound as goofy as possible. I got really good at giving courtesy laughs. Dad loved books, especially children's books... he had tons on hand because he was a school teacher. He loved C.S. Lewis and from him I learned about The Chronicles of Narnia.
These were all very good things in my life.
It has been an interesting journey over the past 20 or so years for me to come to a place of understanding about my dad, to see that his outbursts weren't my fault (and in some ways they weren't even his fault). He had never been taught how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way. Even still, he admitted to his wrongs, he experienced a mighty change of heart, and repented, fully repented. I'm proud of him for it. He has hope in and through the Savior and His wonderful, atoning sacrifice. Today, we enjoy sharing our faith and testimony with each other over the phone or in person. I love my dad!!
I heard this song "Dear Younger Me" the other day on the radio and thought of the scared child I was growing up and how often I'd blame myself for my "punishments". I thought of how many times I wished I hadn't been born into the family I was given. But today... the older me would say to the younger me, "Alicia, this is the perfect family for you. It is in this home you will learn to have compassion, you will learn to forgive, you will learn to love those who do not love themselves, you will witness great miracles, you will witness hearts change, and you will come to know the Savior in a very deep and personal way."
Compared to my dad's childhood, my life was quite easy. I can see where he did try to give something better than what he had. I wonder too (with all that my dad went through and with the redemption he witnessed) if he would write this same letter to himself?
-Alicia
"Dear Younger Me"
by, Mercy Me
Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running thru my head
I wonder how much different things would be
Dear younger me, dear younger me
Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make cuz they’re choices that made me
Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me, dear younger me
If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard
Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me
You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed
Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me, dear younger me
You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed
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