If god is elusive. Her shadow is a silver lining.

Forgive me if 35 years elicits some retrospective. I mean this is a blog. This is by definition a self righteous act and of self import. So I’ll start somewhere else. And then of course bring it right back around to me.

Many of you know my dad. He’s never been perfect. Always able to say the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time. He once told my mom that she was ‘a really good cook if by “really good cook” you are talking about army food.’

He genuinely didn’t know what he said that was so wrong.

That is one example of hundreds. It’s endearing a year or two after when your wt fuck meter goes down a bit and you realize that he seldom means anything maliciously and that much of his awkwardness is naïveté, and a very weak filtering system. He has graciously passed this lack of a filter on to his middle son (me). I like to think I’ve developed some social graces but its a work in progress. The girl I started seeing a short time ago told me that my bluntness was ‘scary but refreshing.’ Thats the nicest way you can possibly put it I think. I say what I think and I don’t make apologies. But I often have an imaginary question mark pop up above my head and a look on my face of ‘Did I honestly just say that?’ And if you think the look on my face is funny, I wish you could see everyone else’s. Sometimes I imagine I have a second head beginning to grow off of my forehead. This way people would be horrified before I say the thing. The response would be similar.

Dad. He’s why I’m here. In several ways. Physiologically he did what he had to and 9 months later the second of 3 boys was born. My younger brother Justin knows better than maybe anyone that my identity and mind has developed in relation to my fathers identity. I’ve owned his strengths, wrestled his and my demons, screamed in silence at my inability to get closer to him. He is simultaneously known to me and a complete and utter mystery.

What helps me breath and helps me rest easy is how blessed I am in relation to other parent situations. These things are never easy. Parents, as people, are hopelessly flawed. In a very human way they are just figuring this out, just as we are. If you want to wax a little more metaphysical: the piece of our parents which we will never touch, is god. The moment we think we believe we have a handle on who or what they are. They’ve moved. Life in relation to our loved ones mirrors the complexity of our creator. Our brokenness and feeble attempt to piece it back together is the gift. We get to do this. Together and alone.

My father suffered an aortic dissection on June 6, 2015. He was 61 years old at the time. To say that the family was ill prepared to lose my dad is such a gross understatement. He’s a father to my sister-in-laws in a tender and childish way. He is his grandchildren’s absolute favorite. He has a bodily and effectual language with them that he past on to Justin, my younger brother. Children and people in general are drawn to them in a visceral way. Theres a warmness and genuine character to their every movement that invites you in.

Dad’s relationship with my older brother was difficult when William IV was young, because they are so different. But they’ve carved out a great relationship. My brother named his baby William 5. Liam. I don’t think that would’ve happened if he didn’t love my father despite their differences. My brother William is very much my opposite. He can take meanness and cruelty and skate straight through it. He has the rose colored glasses on which he invites everyone else to put on when you’re near him. I don’t think I’ve laughed harder with anyone in my life than William. I love his lightness. I crave it.

Dad is my mom’s lifeline. Finances, chores, sickening flirtation, the dude who eats absolutely every piece of army food she puts in front of him. Note that he has never offered to get in the kitchen. He LOVES my moms cooking. The proof is in his 180 pound pot belly. The dude looks like a long distance runner who is 5 months pregnant. Hahaha its great.

We were told during my fathers hospitalization that there was a ‘very good chance’ he wouldn’t make it. That night is mostly a blur. I just remember my body aching in a way I didn’t know was possible. I never had to imagine losing him. Him and I aren’t close as far as communication is concerned. Once he pulled through a day later I found myself on a friends kitchen floor. Sobbing. Manically screaming that I couldn’t lose him yet.

I can’t lose him yet.

If god is elusive. Her shadow is a silver lining.

Fighting through the bullshit on a daily basis tests all of our wills. But a silver lining exists deep beneath the noise. My dads situation reminds me that the lining is still there and that I need to faithfully pursue it. Thank you dad. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say.

Let’s be clear that I’m ending this with an emphasis on myself. This is more for me than anyone else. I hope you enjoyed reading.

Cheers,

Brent