last night my dad asked me to go to a meeting he was leading
he asked me to come for support which i understood as a way to get me to one of these things.
but i go and it is a lot bigger than the ones i've been to in the past.
he starts to give his 7 minute share and i feel myself getting choked up.
he talks about losing tom. he talks about getting altitude sickness and having to find the trail in the dark and he talks about the guy in his group who ignored my dad's warnings and died in his sleep. he talks about how when he was hiking in the dark a thought came to him.
"what are people going to think when i tell them i didn't make the summit?" and it occurs to him that he doesn't see any of those people around walking this mountain with him.
the same way he is not on their mountain.
i am humbled.
he ends his share with the question: what do you want?
and more and more hands start to go up.
share by share, this beautiful cacophony of life and humanity, humility and pain, grief and joy,
tears, laughs, and most importantly presence. everyone there is in the moment.
i start to really listen and there is a part of me that thinks i might just give this a try.
the pursuit of serenity is looking pretty damn appealing.
"uh...that could work..i...i talked to shaun last night and..."
"what's going on?"
"well...i haven't really told you what's going on cause i'm not sure what to do."
i catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and i look like i am twelve years old. the night before i had told my brother that i wasn't sure if i should tell dad because i didn't want him to worry. i knew then that i would tell him and as soon as i start to relay the story i start to feel immediately better.
"we're moving you out today."
he uses that tone of voice that i know i cannot argue with. and i let him be my dad and for the first time in a few weeks i really believe that everything will work out.
while he sat there, eyes glazed and started yelling at me exactly two minutes after he asked me not to get emotional, he started in on a transparent attack sparked by what I assume was his own guilt for just how shitty the situation was.
"you're flagrant misinterpretation..." he never really finished the sentence and what did follow had no logic.
it dawned on me that i was arguing with a wall.
and after years of experience with that battle and realizing i had never won, i decided to end it with, "okay."
which i think was about all i could say.
i spent the next two days moving out and even though i am now commuting to work, i feel the slightest bit relaxed.
saying goodbye was bittersweet. in the end, things will work out and i am going to try to leave it as water under the bridge.
but sometimes the best way to salvage a friendship is to get out of the way.