written about 1994

Father's Day

I was reading the book I Cried, You Didn't Listen and envied the comfort and safety the author, Dwight E. Abbott, had felt with his father. I envied the relationship with his father the author's son described in a poem.

I use the word envy because I've learned envy is for what you never had, jealous is for what you're afraid of losing or have lost. I've learned to acknowledge feeling envy, then anger that I never had that, and I eventually get to grateful that caring fathers exist--until the next time my sadness and longing is triggered.

The work I'm doing has me praying for my father. At first I said, "The hell with this shit. I'm not praying for him." But it's part of the program and it dawned on me why it works. If I can take down the barriers/resentments I built to protect myself from Dad, then my spirit can open up to new relationships.

The only prayer I could stomach for my Dad is, "God, please save my Dad from all I wish for him."

I wish my father had been a real father. I find my ears perking up at the sound of a deep voice, my head turns to watch a father talking to his children, his arm around them, lovingly teaching them something. I've come to realize my ex-husband filled that longing I wasn't truly aware of until now that his voice is gone. It's like sensory deprivation--deprived of a nurturing masculine presence. I watch my daughters and understand how much they're longing for their Dad who only calls about every 6 weeks--no presents, no letters, no visits--just a rare call.

My father never worked. We lived a K-Mart lifestyle on a trust fund left to his mother by her husband, my grandfather who died when my father was 19 years old. My grandmother doled out the money until her death when my father was about 55 years old.

Dad played golf 3 times a week--took us girls once--that's another story. He visited the family lawyer and stockbroker regularly--took us once. Mom cooked 3 meals a day and did all the housework. He never shared of himself, didn't stand for anything except meeting his needs. I couldn't tell you who his friends were...did he have any? He read soft porn westerns, kept an accounting book of what books he read so he'd never read them again and stacked the books in the garage storage room. He refused to ever watch a TV program a second time. One night all my extended family except Mom--including the little grandchildren--came to our little apartment to watch the Wizard of Oz after a family dinner because Dad refused to watch it. He didn't teach me anything--anything I want to remember.

Since praying for him, there has been a change for me. A part of me used to scream and sob out at him - - "Look what you did to me!!!" -- over and over. For the first time I seem to hear someone saying I'm sorry and meaning it.

Cheryl Moore Barron

Incest Survivor

Rennaissance Fair 2006
On a lark I paid for a psychic reading.  I did not expect anything. I thought there would only be charlatans. I later looked at her history, and realized she was a respected psychic.

I sat down, she looked deeply in my face, and said my father was here, and asked his name. I stumbled on my words, and said, "His given name was John."

She said my father hadn't understood what I was doing for a very long time, but now he understands. She said he said that I'm a much bigger man than he ever was.

I smiled recognizing that truth.

The rest of the reading was about other stuff including that she saw in my womb something that puzzled her so much. She blanched, and said, "I THINK it's a dog." We lol and said it must be my cat Sweet Pea. About 3 months later I bought my Sphynx cat, who does make people blanch, and confuse them. They aren't sure it's a dog or cat.