July 10, 2003. Gone.
July 10, 2023. Forgiven.
Sharing this part of me isn’t easy. Some will read this and judge, some will relate or might even get triggered. The one thing I know for sure is that most will think of me differently. Maybe out of love or compassion, or shock that words like this are coming from someone who appears to have it “all together”. Either way, please no pity - that would absolutely annihilate my spirit.
This is more of my story, in the Heart of Albany.
They say acknowledgement is growth, and healing can be painful but also bring you to awe. If I do this right, I will be fortunate to experience both while finding peace and joy. In order for me to continue “2023, A Better Me” I have to peel back more layers, process emotions I have been running from and uncover truths. Truths that are better suited to filling in the gaps rather than creating unnecessary narratives. So, it is time I understand how I got here so I don’t go there again.
What I mean by here is too much to explain right now. Just know that I am uncovering some heavy stuff and if you continue reading and pay attention, the here will become clear. I will start by saying there has been a deep absence in my life. I have always had a feeling like I didn’t “fit in”, especially with my family. My mom’s side is very small, disconnected and for most of my life was very dysfunctional. My mother will read this with a slight or heavy sadness and agree, in her very matter of fact way. First, let me say — I love her dearly even though we didn’t see eye to eye for years. I wasn’t the greatest daughter, I was flawed. She wasn’t the greatest mother, she was flawed. I honor her though because, she did her best even at her worst. I know I am her daughter because our hearts are very similar. Separately, we have been through a lot in this cold world. Faced with tough situations by hardened people who projected their own darkness onto us. Yet we didn’t let it take us down. We kept getting up. We carry lights within our hearts and learned how to innately create love around us by giving it to receive it. We built love without knowing what it was. That is a gift. A heavenly one. She doesn’t know that I see this in her. I only know because I see it in myself. It came from somewhere. Most people who have suffered trauma have a hard time coping, processing and often times repeat the behavior. Some people turn to terrible addictions and let their afflictions bury them in a unstable environment or they need rehab, copious amounts of therapy and/or serious pharmaceuticals. Her story is a story for another time…
Look how pretty my mom was, and how dark her hair was and how different I looked. As I grew older we looked more alike, however there were times I would look at her and think "how did I come to look like me?"
Even though I am my mothers daughter, she will admit that I have strong traits like my father that certainly didn’t come from her. I’ll say, it is a strange feeling looking in the mirror and not recognizing where facial features come from like my blue eyes and blonde hair, and even my frame and height. Or specifically why I like organizational communication, business strategies/systems & space configurations just to name a few geeky things to relate to the nerdy reader. My mother showed zero interest in any of these types of things. What she didn’t know, or anyone could know was the future.
What is it like to have unanswered questions?
It has taken me my whole life to realize that there are some questions purposely left unanswered. Some questions should be asked differently, or directed to other people. Timing is important too. One thing not guaranteed is time. My time was ripped from me way too soon. My father was in a fatal car accident on July 10, 2003 in Wichita, KS where he was living with his wife Mary. I had only met him twice before. The first time very briefly when I was 9 or 10 for a Parker family reunion. The whole ordeal was overwhelming for two reasons: 1. Here I was spending time with someone named David, my father, and he looked like a giant at 6’1” and I didn’t know what to say or how to make conversation now that I was next to him. I think I nervously laughed a lot to fill space and the silence. I don’t even remember what we talked about or what he asked me. 2. He is 1 of 9 siblings, I was also meeting them and most of my cousins for the first time. It was shocking how big the Parker clan is and I was dumbfounded. This was also a time in my life where socializing wasn’t quite my thing yet and I was, for lack of a better term, super awk. The second time I saw my father was brief too at my uncle Bob & aunt Cheryl’s wedding. I was 18. Then, 5 years later I was burying him.
That Time I Wished I Never Looked at My Phone
My mom had been trying to call and couldn’t get through. When I started listening to her first message pleading with me to call, I knew something was wrong. As the words “your father has been in an accident and he died, you need to get home so I can pick you up …” I had already fallen to the ground on my knees wailing. Thoughts of unanswered questions and also of how cruel God was swirled in my head. My heart was shattered into a million tiny little pieces. All hope I had of ever knowing him and understanding who I am felt as though it was gone. Afraid I would walk this earth never ever knowing, until now.
Here is what I remember growing up…
Fathers day was always so hard. Do you remember making gifts for your parents in grade school for all the holidays? I remember coloring a paper tie for Fathers Day and wondered if my father ever wore ties. What was his favorite color? What did he do for work? What does he like to do for fun? Does he like music? By question 4 or 5 it would lead to, “does he think of me?” And then cue the sadness. Of course I would hide it… but it was there. To keep my hope alive, I would imagine him at the front door saying, “Samantha I am here.” I would fantasize about traveling adventures, him teaching me things (anything) and stories he’d share about his life experiences. In my rebellious “My So Called Life” teenage years, those daydreams would turn into all sorts of emotions. Because it wasn’t ok to be female and angry my anger would be silent, then turn to tears and I never really understood how to verbalize them. Sometimes I visualized myself yelling at him and telling him how awful he was for not being around, calling him every name in the book. As an only child of a single parent mom who often worked to keep the fridge stocked and lights on, I didn’t want to burden her. However, I am sure she understood. I remember her looking at me from time to time, maybe in wonderment and also in sadness. She knew I was better off than how she grew up yet I still went without on so many levels. She knew I was different from other kids.
Speaking of kids…kids treat you differently when they have something you don’t.
Whether it was bullying or sympathy, neither ever felt good. And I don’t know what was worse, despondence or pity. When you’re vulnerable enough to share something that is different about yourself and are taught at a young age that it may make others uncomfortable, you eventually stop sharing for fear you will be ostracized or left out. This isn’t good, this is the beginning stages of building a wall and not letting people in.
Most of my friends didn’t understand because they had both parents in their lives, even if at different houses. Most often they had siblings too so their home lives were very active and from my perspective pretty chaotic. Growing up I spent a lot of time alone, and at times I wished not only for a dad, but siblings too. I was often reminded with a big HECK NO while spending time in those crazy households. Today blended families are the norm and more and more people are learning things about their families they didn’t know growing up. BTW - We must give props to the ones who step in or wear multiple hats to fill in the gaps. Kids need present people in their lives. I read somewhere that a father is a biological term, and a dad is someone who is present in your life. I don’t really know the reason my father wasn’t in my life, but he wasn’t so I can never call him “dad” - I never have.
“… where I looked, I would go. Where my mind went, I would go. Where my emotions went, I would go.” ~ Christine Caine in “Don’t Look Back"
In order to go forward, you have to acknowledge the past. Most of my life I felt completely abandoned by my father. I felt sadness and disgust at times when I would think of him. How could a parent just ignore being a parent? I harbored these feelings, they burned into resentment, self doubt, and unworthiness. A recipe for being ill-prepared for intimate relationships with men. Here is the here I spoke of earlier. I don’t wish to be here again. Here meaning another failed relationship. Another attachment to someone when I am not whole or healed myself. I refuse to repeat history. Time is too short. It became clear that much of my healing would require facing all of my emotions head on. No more running to a vice, or seeking love from another person to make myself feel better.
The images here are of a handful I have of my father. With very few of his possessions, I carry him in my DNA. My father and I when I was too young to know him, (left), then the first time I met him (right). I was star struck, quiet and so happy. Btw - he was handsome!
Recently, I’ve had quite a few epiphanies in fast succession, in a very short amount of time. I have been on this journey for the past 10 months to healing which has resulted in an awakening. I have forgiven many people and continue to walk with Jesus in my heart to arrive here. One of those was recognizing that prior to my father passing I was very independent, decisive and more secure. I remember having boyfriends in high school and beyond and even though I really didn’t know what I was doing, (who does then?) my communication was clear when my heart wasn’t bound to something that didn’t feel right. It was when he passed that my behavior changed. Perhaps my vulnerability was due to his abandonment and when he was forever gone I became more fearful that I would miss out on real love or that it would leave me. I found myself in co-dependent relationships, making sure I did whatever necessary to feel needed. Because feeling needed felt like love. It is highly unhealthy confusing the feelings, forcing things that are not necessary, and overlooking my own feelings for someone or something else. Codependency leads to other things like self-medicating, promoting early onset of addiction of any kind. For me it was an obsession with working-out or turning to alcohol. (What a dichotomy?)
My fathers high school photo, (left) my high school photo, (right). How ironic with his bowtie, my necklace, our glasses. I can see the striking resemblance. Can't you? Sans my Howard Stern hair. HAHA!
So on the 20th year anniversary of my fathers death, a man I didn’t know — I forgive him. He is gone. It’s hard to believe that was 20 years ago. And I have to accept that there are things I cannot change and questions that may remain unanswered. Forgiveness doesn’t mean he is exonerated from his trespasses, he has someone else to answer to for that. There is no doubt that my father had his own Goliaths. He suffered from epilepsy, 3 failed marriages, and I am sure a slew of many, many more secret struggles. Again, this doesn’t excuse him for being an absent parent nor does it excuse anyone from being an absent parent. However, I need to finally release this weight. It has been so heavy to carry and I am so tired. Part of me has lightened so much to recognize this, and the other part of me has been suffocating to release it. I cannot stay angry, hurt, offended or sad. Today, not only do I forgive him, I pray for his salvation. I pray that he is in heaven and at peace with every life decision. I pray he asked for forgiveness.
What do I seek while I am still here, taking this path of forgiveness?
This is still my rising year, yet I hope these words help someone who seeks to rise, to live lighter, freer. That they begin to explore how. “If not now, when?” I am uncovering who my father was, his story and how it pertains to me is absolutely necessary for me to do right now. There are people alive I can talk to who knew him and I am ready to talk. I wasn’t before. I was hiding. My future self will thank me for taking this time. I hope this will help me develop a deeper connection with God, sustain a healthier relationship with my next partner in life and ultimately create better relationships altogether moving forward. What I learn over the next month or so may take me a few more blogs to write. Perhaps it will fill a whole book. Once I learn it, I will “not look back” at the unnecessary false narratives I told myself or dwell on negative thoughts of shame and unworthiness. This is a season for me, to love me, to learn … to grow. So whatever the reason my father chose not to be in my life, I am choosing to add him back into mine. With some rose colored Jesus lenses and a renewed heart — I am gonna love the ish outta this part of my life. This is how I am choosing to heal. It’s all part of my “awakening”. ~ xo
I spotted this car en route to a wonderful dinner at Cafe Capriccio in DT Albany on State St. just a few weeks before redirecting my focus as to what the Heart of Albany would be about. Coincidence? I think not.
