Someone told me once,
"trauma stays with you and reverberates in your soul." I can attest
to this fact.
My trauma. I was 16 years old;
I had just turned 16 approximately 14 days prior. On the day in question, I was
sitting in a church pew. Beside me was my mother, my brother, my sister and my
then brother-in-law. Before me, stood a casket in which contained the recently
departed vessel of my father. I remember it as trauma because I felt alone. I
always found social interaction difficult, but I always felt my father was
safe. He loved me, both in word and action. He loved me if I was grouchy or
happy. He sought me out and listened to me. He was kind, intelligent and funny.
Three things that I still aspire to be. I always felt, no matter what went on
around me, that our relationship was a safety net. Then one day I got a call
while upstairs and my aunt told me that my safety net was gone.
Right or wrong, I felt that day
that the only person in the world who loved me was dead. Now this is not the
truth, there were (& are) many people who loved me-but our relationship was
special. I looked for that special relationship elsewhere, but never found it.
I still feel like I look for that special kind of relationship. In all the
years since that day, there has always been a little trap-door in my heart that
I can open and look back down at the 16-year-old kid who never felt more
alone.
Fast forward. I am on the cusp
of 40 and I have been reading a self-help book. This book suggests that we all
have a story that we tell ourselves and one that serves us. As was previously
stated, I realised that I always have the story of tragedy waiting in the
background of my soul. I do this for a number of reasons. I remind myself of
the tragedy because it is the last thing I have of my Dad and I feel disloyal
to give that up. I do this because I believe if I allow the idea of tragedy to
stay with me than I will make more responsible decisions and have a better
life. I do this because I believe that if I know tragedy is coming, I can
prepare for it and then when it happens the things I (or others) will be left
with be greater in number and quality.
I am grateful to have carried
the story of tragedy. I am grateful because it has allowed me to be a better
friend, husband and father because I understand that my actions can have
consequences and that time is not limited. I am grateful to have actively
remembered my father, he was a man of exceptional quality and deserves a place
in my heart until I see him again. I am grateful because making responsible
decisions have better outcomes because they ultimately rest on the idea of
caring about others over yourself.
I chose today to blow out the
candles of morning. I chose to shut off the lights in the church in my mind and
send that 16-year-old kid home to play video games. I chose to hold to a
different story. A story that is my own and is grateful and optimistic.
I held to tragedy because I
thought it was all I had. It's not all. He was kind to loads of people. He
brought joy. He was inventive, complicated, and sharp. Instead of grief, I will
replace that story of endless drives we took together. Long conversations as
the street lights flickered above. Special moments that showed me his soul and
let him see mine. Worthy memories of a father who cared for his son and showed
him his humanity. Memories worthy of Gerry Vogt, who I proudly hold up as the
best father I could ask for.
I held to tragedy because I
thought it made me more responsible. Instead, I realise the years of steeping
myself in faith and the Bible or the profound influence of countless Christian
men who showed me the spirit of being a man of God serves as a much more solid
reminder than grief. Lessons of humility, discipline, faithfulness and passion
are the markers of my adult life. They are the reason I am in a happy marriage
and they are the reason I have a happy family. These are the things that kept
me afloat.
I held to tragedy because I
believed it helped me to prepare for the future. I am not clairvoyant and I don’t
know if I will live to be 40 or 140. I chose to believe that by cultivating
with the tools I mentioned in the last paragraph I do more for my future than
being depressed ever would. That the sense of despair I feel serves me less
than the optimism and joy that awaits me. The sense of despair paints all the
good in my life (both past and future) as "nice, but...." when all of
that should be met with joyful gratitude.
I wrote once in this blog about
how I had an emotional shrine for my dad. Today I am going to that shrine and
blowing out the candles because I don’t think he would want me to mourn forever
for him in the dust and I really want to know more personal freedom in my life.
So, thank you for indulging me
dear reader. I hope you can take from my experience something of a reminder
that what you see as "you" is a lot more fluid a concept than you
give credit. I want a better life and I want it for you also. I want to believe
we can have a better life together as we find the parts of our story we believe
and look at a knew story for ourselves so that we can truly see if there is
more joy to be squeaked out of this very short existence.
