By The Way, I Forgive You.

I heard an interview with singer Brandi Carlile on NPR today.  Her new album is about forgiveness -- "radical forgiveness" -- as she called it.  One of the songs, Most of All, was about her connection to her parents.  She was describing how her parents used to have so many gripes and grievances about their mothers.  Yet, after her grandmas died last year, all bad memories about them instantly vaporized.  In their place were only good things and funny stories.

That comment really strikes a chord with me.

Like Carlile's parents, I had my share of gripes and grievances about my late father.  There were a number of years during which I did not feel like talking to him at all.  Sometimes I was so angry with him that I could not stand having him in my sight.  My negative feelings for him went up and down, but it never went away.

And then that phone call came.  I vividly remember screaming in my own head, "I am sorry.  It doesn't matter anymore.  I am sorry.  Please come back!"  He didn't.  This is the biggest regret in my life.

I never felt particularly close to my father.  He was not a homebody.  He enjoyed hanging out with his friends way more than spending time with us.  He was not very good with kids.  I guess it was because he did not grow up in a loving household with good upbringing.  He had no role models for either parenting or spousal skills.  He did not get along very well with my mother.

In high school, when I first learnt the expression "victim of circumstances", instantly,  I thought of my father.  I really believed that, had someone given him a stable environment filled with unconditional love, he could have become a very different person -- maybe a more loving father, or a more thoughtful husband.  Or, at least, a happier person.

Now that my father is gone, and I am an older person, I begin to appreciate the difficulties and constraints he was facing.  Being an old-fashioned manly man, he seldom opened up to anybody about things on his mind.  He never spilled a word to us about what was troubling him.  We could see that he was angry and frustrated, but we had no idea what was eating him so badly.  I bet some of these ongoing issues must have consumed him tremendously.  I wish I had the maturity and patience I have now so I could overcome my bias and learn to understand him better.  Looking back, I begin to see some of his strengths that were overlooked before.  It all came too late.

To quote Brandi Carlile, "If your parents are still alive, don't forget to tell them that you love them, and mean it."