The atmosphere in Tangier’s old medina has been peacefully quiet this morning, which is always indicative of a much more “alive” upcoming afternoon or, as I like to affectingly refer to it, an impending “beautiful human chaos” awaiting to take back its rightful flow in a high-rising stream. And when it does, it remains the most fabulous display of life there is, a reminder that we don’t have to abide by the restrictive construct of time if we don’t want to, if we don’t have to. I guess that’s why going to the rooftop terrace to write before the sun rises kind of stands as a sort of defying gesture for most of my friends around here — that, and being a bit of an excessive type of “crazy” individual, a statement that most of my loved ones would certainly support and add a few other words to the fold. Well, go figure, maybe awkwardness is part of my unique charm after all… “Yeah, I’m special…” ;)
Speaking of being a little singular, here are a few things I experienced and reflected on this last week. There’s so much going on for someone who still hasn’t found full mobility in his ankle (hello patience, this is frustration calling…!), so I decided to do a few-part series to get you all in the loop… As my manager and precious friend Jennie would say, “There’s never a boring day with you, Alex!”… There certainly isn’t!
My Father’s Passing Anniversary
July 8th marked the day of my father’s passing. I’m not counting the number of years it’s been, as I don’t want him and his departure to remain a fixture of the past, especially as I miss him every day. Sadly, or shamefully, much more now than I ever did when he was alive and well. The irony of this admission is quite difficult to fathom sometimes — most of the time, should I say.
Weirdly, a very dear friend of mine sent me a message saying:
“I don’t know what significance July 8th, the day your father passed away, holds for you now, but I just wanted to let you know that my thoughts are with you. ;) Have a good day. xxx”
I didn’t make anything of it at first, but it came back to me a few hours after while I was reflecting on the place my father actually holds in my every “now”… “How weird of a message it is,” I initially thought. It was so distant and remote from who I am. It wasn’t a big deal since I’m usually pretty discreet about the deepest elements of my affective intimacy, and my father’s topic is one of the most personal matters I don’t really want to address with others… Not because it’s too painful — even if it is — but mainly because, living in a community for so long, I rarely, if ever, managed to keep any parts of my heart away from the collective spirit I cultivated, and my parents were often used and manipulated by the not-so-nice individuals I had welcomed in my life over the years…
My regrets go both ways. On one side, I’m profoundly sorry that I allowed that to happen, that I haven’t protected them in any way. And on the other side, when it was too late to do so, my “solution” to prevent them from any further abuse was to cut my parents’ circle off from my life, while I should have pruned my own entourage instead. That’s a deep and sorrowful regret I bear on my soul every single time I think about my father… And still, I have to make peace with it all. It ain’t easy, or maybe I’m not ready, or maybe I just don’t want to… I used to hate those former “friends” for that, but they don’t have anything to do with this all… That’s why it’s much harder to forgive myself i supposed…
Another friend wrote to me:
“I know July 8th is a very emotional day for you, brother, but one thing for sure, if it might bring solace to your broken heart, your father has always been proud of you and would be even more now witnessing the person you decide to be on a daily basis. Keep shining, I love you, man.”
I knew he always loved me regardless of the drastic and hardly understandable distance I created between us, as much as I have always known that he was proud of me regardless of the fact that he was significantly puzzled by my lifestyle, my relentlessness to maintain certain toxic persons in my life, and my acceptance of those people’s abuses over and over… He voiced himself countless times, pretty much like old friends who saw me fade away in that sourly cult-like and emotionally unhealthy community it was morphing into. He trusted I would manage to find my way back to the light and constantly reminded me he was there to unjudgmentally welcome me whenever I needed or when I would be ready to emancipate myself from that anti-anxiolytic environment. He died at the moment I realized my change of scenery was overdue — or so I want to believe. It’s actually his passing that led me to stop, face the self-imposed misery I maintained myself in, and ponder if I was truly willing to make the corresponding changes that would eventually lead to my personal transformation. And here I am now… Free.
That being said, if the conceptual idea and spiritual nature of freedom are free, there’s always a price to pay or a personal token of some sort that seems to be involved in the process. Mine, regarding my father’s departure, is most definitely the excruciating pain that his absence keeps on feeding within me, a pain reflected by the silence that his passing created in my heart. The void left by his absence is becoming heavier and heavier each and every time I spontaneously talk to myself as if he were “there” listening to me or when I find myself thinking, “Wouldn’t my father be overwhelmingly amazed by such and such?” There are just so many things I would like to share with him, to experience along his side, and to look at the massive 1.94-meter and 104-kilo monument of a dude he was whenever he would be amazed by a new father-son adventure… That’s what mostly hurts every day.
All in all, to answer the question regarding how significant July 8th is for me, it is in the sense of a defining marker in my life. Like the day I opened my eyes following my heart surgery, my pup MacKaye’s passing, and a few other soul-wrenching events that are connecting the forever-growing thread of my yearly determination to grow and outgrow. And, as painful as they all are to me, I’m nonetheless grateful for each and every one of those thread connectors… At least I’m learning to be every single day, as they are part of the fabric of the person I decide to be now.
If you miss someone, one that can still be reached, or if you feel like having to forgive or be forgiven to keep on emancipating yourself, and if it’s emotionally healthy and safe to do so, I hope that you’ll be able to find to rekindle with those people and, most of all, that you will be able to find your peace in your reflecting process, whatever it is that kept you from trying or might be necessary to maintain distance.
Life creates life.
Your friend and brother,
Alex
PS: The second part of my “So What’s Going On, Alex?” series is titled “I Found Love Again”… I guess it says it all ;)
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