I know it's the name of a cheesy tv show, but I really did have 2 dads, and doing anything to honor Father's Day wouldn't feel right without remembering both of them.
I want to say that I'm fortunate enough to have a wonderful father-in-law, and since both of my dads are now gone, Matt and I spent most of the day with him today. If it weren't for him, Father's Day would be a poor excuse for a holiday in my world, and I'm glad to have him in my life.
But at this point all I can do to honor by dads on this day is something along these lines...simply remembering them...so here it goes.
Daddy
Billy Joe Goforth Jr. (Jody)
1961-2003
I never called him anything but Daddy, maybe because I got to spend so little time with him around that age when that transition would usually happen. To this day it's what I call him to myself. He was so much fun, so hard-working, and very generous and genuine. He had many skills, but was humble enough that you might never have known it. It's funny that this picture is of the 2 of us in the swimming pool, because moments like that...goofing off in the swimming pool, spending time with family at BBQs, listening to music together, playing frisbee in the front yard...are the things that seem to stick with me now. He loved to spend time with his family, and considering the things that I couldn't have possibly known were to come at the time, those simple memories of just enjoying being with him, without seeing a gray cloud in the sky for miles around, are little treasures to me now.
I feel entirely ripped off in my relationship with my Daddy. My mom took us so far away from him when I was so young, but before that I can barely even remember her. It was all him, my Grandma (his mom), and my sister. I felt ripped away from him, and from everything I have seen, everything I have been told, and everything I know within me, he was the parent that I was "modeled" after. I know that I am so much like him, I look so much like him, and I even see him looking back at me sometimes when I look in the mirror. But in the years after I had to move from Louisiana to Colorado, halfway across the country from him, I was only able to see him for occasional visits, if I was lucky. I finally moved back to Louisiana when I was 15 and got to spend some wonderful time with him, amazed at how alike we were and how perfectly right that felt, but it was so short-lived. He married a horrible woman, who slowly tried to isolate him from his family, and gradually succeeded. Several years passed when seemingly every visit with me meant a fight for him with her.
In May of 2003, a few days after I graduated from college, he killed himself. He didn't leave behind any explanation, so we can only guess at what drove him to it. Though all of his family tried to reach out to him and keep from losing touch with him, I suspect it ultimately came down to loneliness. He had been isolated from everyone he loved, and that was not in his nature. He needed the love and company of his friends and family. The news of his suicide was possibly the most devastating thing I've had to endure, aside from the news of my sister's suicide. I feel like at so many turns in my life, I missed a chance to have more of a relationship with him. I know it wasn't my fault, and that as soon as I was in control of my own life I tried as hard as I could, but none of that changes the fact that it's too late now. But in so many ways, he was what made me make sense in this world, and I hold him in my heart as a reminder of my own identity when I need it.
Tommy
Thomas Edward Morris Jr.
1962-2009
I was, I guess, about 7 years old when this guy came into my life. As you can see from this picture, Tommy was a party animal! He was just a guy my mom was dating at first, but I remember thinking he was very funny and sweet. He also loved music, like my dad, which made me like him. Before I knew it, I was told that my mom would be marrying him and that my littlest sister was on the way. Tommy went into the army, which took us to Virginia for a while, and then eventually to Colorado. What followed was bittersweet to me. I was crazy about Tommy and my new baby sister, so I had these great new additions to my family, but I was so far away from the main family I had really known up to that point. I guess I didn't understand why starting a new life that included Tommy and Macy necessarily had to exclude the people who had raised me. And once she was away from them (and their watchful eyes, I guess), my mom became crazier than I'd ever realized she was before. I had learned to fear her from as early on as I could remember, but the violence escalated once we were away, I was more afraid of her than I ever had been. When she started to push for Tommy to adopt me and Jacklyn, she used fear to force us to go along with it, and I am still torn up about that. Even though I was only 8 when the adoption took place, in moments when I'm being particularly hard on myself, I wish I had been stronger, stood up to her, took her "punishment," and not put my dad through that hell. I was forced to call him and tell him that I no longer loved him and he was no longer my dad, so he needed to sign the adoption papers...and I could hear the pain in his voice, but I did it because I was scared and I didn't want to be hurt. I should have refused.
My mixed feelings about the adoption had nothing to do with Tommy, though, and we had discussions about it years after the fact. We realized that my mom had lied to both of us, so that she could orchestrate things the way she wanted them, and while neither of us regretted it, we both agreed that it put a lot of people through a lot pain at the time that we wish we could have avoided. In hindsight though, adoption or not, Tommy would have gone on to be more than a step-dad and someone who I truly considered a second father. There are so many things he did for me, even after his divorce from my mom, that he didn't have to do. Had he not, though, I have no idea how my life might have turned out. It kind of scares me to imagine it.
Tommy was a prankster, a nurturer, and most of all a protector. I think both of my sisters and I have thought of him that way. He was the one we all went running to when we were in real need of help. He was Macy's dad by blood, and therefore I guess obligated in her case, but for him it had nothing to do with a sense of obligation with any of us. He didn't have to continue to have anything to do with me and Jacklyn after his short marriage to our mom, but he chose to. He genuinely loved us, and was truly that generous. Without him, there would have been many times in all of our lives when we wouldn't have had a safe haven, but he would not have let that happen.
He was killed in a head-on collision by a drunk driver in January of 2009. I still get so pissed off when I allow myself to think about it long enough. I know he wasn't ready to go yet. I know he wouldn't have wanted to leave any of us behind so early on. I know he would have wanted to wait until he saw that Macy was going to be settled and happy without him. He was the glue that held our family together, and now that Macy and I are all that's really left, at least around here, I know that we both feel lost without him all the time. I think the things I miss most about him are how much I laughed when I was around him, and the fact that if I really needed to I could cry to him.
In many ways I am lucky. Some people never know their fathers or have horrible dads. I was fortunate enough to have two that were beyond compare, at least to me. They both taught me about unconditional love, resilience, how to be selfless, how to persevere, and even how to love and laugh when faced with hatred and strife. I wish my time with them had not been so short, but I do thank the gods more than words can express that I got to have each of them in my life long enough to become the person I am, rather than the person I might have become if they had not been there.
No comments:
Post a Comment