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Recently I have been reminded how lucky I am to have friends and family that travel down life’s path with me. My trip to see my godmother has been an enlightening spiritual experience, one that opened my eyes in so many ways. The lessons that I took with me from that trip were enforced by the words and expressions of my mother, another bright soul in my life. Now this evening my best friend has helped me in beginning to heal a deep scarred wound-one that I have put too much meaning and caused far greater damage to myself than anyone else ever could have done.

I have been troubled by feeling of resentment and jealousy of my sister. Mostly as a result of her relationship with our deceased father. I have believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was and would always remain his favorite child. By this I mean that, I felt he had a deeper love and devotion for her than for myself-this I felt was expressed in the way that he pined over her, saved her from the consequences of her mistakes, and presented her with material objects that had not been earned. For example, she got a car for her 16th birthday the same as I did-though I had worked hard to succeed in school and she did not-a stipulation that I had been told would determine if you got a car. This has caused me great pain for many years. I wished that I had that type of relationship with my father, that’s not true, more to the point I wished he loved me as much as he loved her. I had felt somehow that I had earned that love and therefore could not understand why I was denied that love.

Upon reflecting on these feelings with my friend I have come to realize that I did share a deep love and mutual devotion with my father, one that has nothing at all to do with my sister and his relationship with her. I had so many “special” things that I shared with my father, things that were small and insignificant to the average person but provided a richness to our relationship. On the weekends that I spent with my dad during my adolescence-divorce calls for every other weekend, he and I did the grocery shopping; which meant going up and down every aisle of the store and carefully choosing the things we needed for the weekend and either spaghetti or chili. I spent time in the kitchen cooking with my dad and struggling with his frustration when trying new recipes-which we did not do often for that reason. As a police man, guns were a part of my dad’s life and at a young age I was taught how to disassemble and reassemble a gun, how to tell the difference between a loaded and unloaded gun, and how to properly clean one too! I watched late night crappy movies with my dad and had conversations that continued on till 1 am when he would fall asleep on the couch. These occasionally included him discussing his terrible memories from the Vietnam War-he served in the Navy. When I left for college most of my phone calls home consisted of my updates of life on campus and his expressions of concern about my sister, often ending with him asking my advise about what he should do as a parent to help her through these tough times she was experiencing. At the time this made me angry, “why wasn’t he focused on the events I participated in, the good grades I earned, or the accomplishments that I shared?, why is it that when I call he only wants to talk about her? why isn’t anything I do good enough to earn his attention?”. Later, when my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer caused by asbestos exposure and he could no longer live alone, he stayed with me with the aid of Hospice, until the day he died-at home with me.

Tonight I was shown a perspective that rings true for me-an insight my mother attempted to point out a long while ago but I was unready to accept. The relationship I had with my Da’ (a nickname I gave my dad many years ago) was so different than I realized. My Da’ treated me like an equal or a peer, rather than as a child. I was able to share in thought, responsibilities, and ideas that separated me from my childish thoughts-even though I was only a teenager at the time. He (and my mother) always had the highest expectations and KNEW that I would meet those expectation because that is the person I was and continue to be. When I have gotten in trouble I have turned away from the helping hands that instantly reached out to “save” me and rather insisted on “doing it on my own”, “handling with the consequences of my actions”, and “proving I can do it my way”. Stubborn like my parents!!! So I see more clearly, I am, and have always been, good enough to receive that love-but I was blocking it with my own self hate. My Da’ loved me! He saw me as a grown, responsible, and capable young woman.

I could have saved myself so much pain and fear, if only I had not tried so hard to GET his love for my sister and instead had just accepted and embraced the love he had for me!! So much wasted time trying to meet his (and my mom’s) expectations and show him (them) that I was better than good-especially since I had already exceeded their expectation by being GREAT!

My Mama has been trying to explain this to me for years and years. Finally, I get it! I have had for some time the benefiit of my parents seeing me as an adult and not a helpless child-always their “baby” but far from the child I used to be! It’s simple–LOVE replaces FEAR

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