Memory of Fathers

This is an old photo taken of my father when he was a police officer in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He's the tall dark lanky one, second in front of the tree on the left, looking toward the dignitaries. He must have been on parade. He was a very handsome man. I think this photo was taken in the mid to late 40s, before I was born.

The memory of my father was of his physical height and his connection with the land, where he loved to hunt and fish. I would often go with him on fishing trips, and go traipsing through the woods checking rabbit snares for rabbits, in spite of me lagging behind or getting my fishing hook caught in the arse end of my pants. The rabbit snaring trips quickly came to an abrupt end, when I was confronted with the reality of seeing a bunny caught in a snare. My father promptly hit it on top of the head and killed it. I never went again.

Our young impressions of our fathers are different from when we become mature adults. Some impressions  remain the same, others change and some are bitter sweet. Constants for me were the ever increasing awareness I had of my father's drinking and how this was affecting our family. When I was thirteen he'd left the family. It wasn't until I'd matured, that I realized how much of an affect it would have, upon being reunited with him, after being separated for twenty six years.

As a young adult I came to fear that I would become the person my father was, who had a serious alcohol problem. Later on  in adult life, I realized I had many shared characteristics in common with my father. Yes, I admitted and accepted I was alcoholic, and got myself into several 12 Step programs. Along with this, I had a very similar personality as my father.
He was very sensitive, emotional, creative, a hard worker, with a great sense of humour, he loved people, and had a faith in the God of his understanding. Most importantly, I know he loved me, my mother and my brother. He was wounded in his young life, coming from a poor rural coal mining town in New Brunswick.
Like so many of us, and did the best he could, with what he had to give. I have learned the important lesson that you can't give away what you don't have yourself.

 I would be lying to say that Father's Day doesn't bring up feelings of loss, sadness, and hurt. But that is OK, as long as I acknowledge it, and can talk openly without dwelling on the past, then I can move beyond this, think about the good memories I have of my father, and how I can be grateful and proud, that I am my father's daughter.

I have never regretted tracking my father down almost twenty years ago. It helped me to reclaim who I am, because I did it for myself, though I am still a work in progress. The repercussions for my family was a healing one.

Today I heard the most beautiful song by Jeff MacDonald, from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. It was a Gaelic rendition of The Lord's Prayer. It touched me in a very deep way. I don't understand Gaelic but music transcends the necessity to know what is being said, and it can touch the heart regardless. I tried to find it online but could not, but I did find another song he sings about family, which I have posted. Family is about home, whether it be your family of origin, or family of choice. Home really is where the heart is.

Jeff MacDonald's interpretation of The Lord's Prayer conveyed a very evident deep spirituality and expressed to me my feelings about my Father, The Creator, my Higher Power and was filled with gratitude and love for my own father and was acutely aware of how much I miss him.

 I have had many spiritual fathers and mothers throughout my life. A person does not have to be a biological father or mother, to fulfill this most important and difficult job in the world that can make all the difference to another, that has lost their way, or is in need of guidance. I am so very grateful to for all of those who have helped me along the path, especially my family biological or not.

Resentment Versus Contentment

Many years ago, I heard it said, by a man in Alcoholics Anonymous, that giving a medallion to an alcoholic, is like giving a cowboy with hemorrhoids a medal, for not getting on his horse.

That said, I have several medallions from A.A. after 19 years of sobriety, one day at a time, this day January 2nd 2013. I am so grateful to be able to say this, because the 12 steps of recovery gave me back my life, and no doubt saved my life. I don't need a medallion nor do I have hemorrhoids. I do however, wish I had a horse!

I also heard yesterday, the singer/songwriter and musician Kenny Rogers say, it had been pointed out to him by a friend, that when ever he spoke of his father, the first thing he would say was, that his father was an alcoholic. After Kenny became a wiser and more insightful person, he finally came to appreciate and love his father later in life, for the person he was, looking beyond his alcoholism.
I would speak the same way of my own father. I did this until I learned to forgive myself for the mistakes I had made in my own life, and came to understand my own alcoholism. It was only when I had done this in recovery, I began to have compassion toward my father,  to accept him and love him for the beautiful human being he was. It wasn't easy, as he had been absent from my life for 26 years.

Long before I got into recovery a dear friend, who is a brilliant wordsmith of sorts, and a writer explained the word bitterness to me, or what she called bitter root. She said, if we hold onto our resentments we become bitter, and this bitter root grows and invades every part of our lives. At the time, I did not fully comprehend just what this meant or how pertinent it was and is to my life, to the relationship with myself, others and with the God of my own understanding. I learned in A.A. I can not afford resentment because it will get me drunk so I don't collect resentments any more in my gunny sack.

In recovery I have seen so many of my own personal dreams fulfilled, miracles happen in my life, wonderful friends I have met from all over the world and I am afraid I would have missed it all if I had never gotten into recovery. In 2005 I had the amazing opportunity of attending the International A.A. Convention in Toronto Ontario, where I experienced my own personal miracle.

When I take close look at these past nineteen years, I see what I have accomplished, things that I could never have imagined, had I not got honest with myself, clean and sober. I can't say it was all fun and light. I walked threw many dangers, storms and trials, and experienced the dark night of the soul, but I never had to drink. I learned through recovery to live life, on life's terms, found a strength greater than myself, and a fellowship that was second to none.

I have always followed my passions; working with  youth, art, horses and music/dance. 

In 1994 I joined A.A. left  youth care, after having had the opportunity to return to school, to fulfill a child hood dream, to be close to horses. I enrolled in an Equestrian Coaching Preparation Program. I got sober when I went riding horses, where living on a working horse farm for almost two years.  I even got the real estate award for covering so much ground! In other words, I fell off a lot! But more importantly, I always got back on that horse, and I went to a lot of A.A. meetings! I returned to Youth Care after I graduated from my Equestrian Coaching Program and became a Therapeutic Parent Counsellor in my own home.

At fifty, I took up Mediterranean dance, or what is more commonly known as Belly Dance. I had the privilege of teaching a small group of women in my village. What fun that was! It was a remarkable thing to watch how some women transformed their body image changing into confident women.

Finally at the age of  fifty six, I returned to University after thirty years, finishing my Bachelor of Fine Art Degree and graduating this past May, a month prior to my fifty ninth birthday, which was the most challenging and rewarding experience of my life.

I have to add a fifth passion, the 12th Step recovery program, and the Fellowship of A.A.
I know I would never have been able to achieve or been able to overcome much of any thing, had I not sobered up and I am so very grateful for every good day and  the crappy ones too. I usually learn the most from them. The worst day of contented sobriety is always a better day compared to the supposed best day drunk.