xring44,
Thank you for your kind words. For some reason, I've found your comments hardest to reply to. You were nothing but supportive and you didn't say anything wrong...and yet this is my 3rd attempt in 2 days at a reply. Forgive me if I come across as "preachy", I'm trying very hard *not* to be. If I end up coming across that way, then please bear with me. And if this seems a bit disjointed, it's because I wrote some of this yesterday, and some tonight. I'm sorry it ended up so long...and so emo.
I just found out a couple of days ago my ex-husband died. He was very much like my dad (probably why dad couldn't stand him! lol), and I'm seeing the choices they both made in how they lived, and the consequences of those choices. They both died alone and broke...and by "broke" I mean more than just an absence of money.
I always admired my dad's spirit, and how there was only ONE way to do anything, and that was "Bob's way." And yet, that part of why he's not here, and right at this moment I'm pretty angry at him for that. For being that way, for refusing help that was offered and offered again to him. For smoking even though he was on oxygen, for not buying food and yet always finding the money to buy booze, for not taking care of himself....and mostly, for giving up. I'm firmly convinced that what killed him is he simply ran out of anything to live for. I know that anger is a normal part of grief, so for once in my life, I'm being completely normal.
The end of his life didn't need to be like it was. And yet, even still, I gotta admire him for going out "his way." He was a complex man, and brought out conflicting feelings in anyone who was close to him.
He experienced what most of us only dreamed of.
He did at that. I know for a fact his experiences in Africa alone were legendary, even if some of them were not the sort of stories a *daughter* wants to hear. I just fast-forward my brain through
those parts.
Restraints we place on ourselves in the form of jobs or family prevent most of us from experiencing the life he lead. Failed marriages always seemed to push us away from family and back to the safety of something we understand better, hunting.
As much as I want to honor my father's memory and look at the good he did in his life and his amazing accomplishments, I think it's important to point out that he died broke and alone, and there were reasons for that. Aside from being my dad, he was a great man who led an incredible life. But all choices in life have a price.
In his final years, I think he would have given almost anything to have some of those "restraints" you spoke of.
He was lucky (or rather, he chose well and was upfront with them from the beginning) in that all of his wives were VERY understanding of who he was, and what was important to him. There was never a question that when he wanted to go hunting, he went. In fact when I hear stories about husbands having to plead with their wives so they can go hunting, it's so foreign to me, because that's not how I was raised. In fact, it's something good I learned from his example...
never be with someone who doesn't accept who you are, or who tries to stop you from doing what makes you happy. I'll bet my dad never even knew he'd taught me that
He was always a good provider (until the very end of his life), so money was never an issue, and for the part of his life that he worked as a hunting guide, he got to do both and his hunting skills provided for his family. Although he was a good provider, he was also a workaholic...and *always* took on more than he could handle. I believe that was part of the reason so many of his businesses failed, because he simply stretched himself too thin. I see
that in myself too, and am trying to "correct it" before it's too late.
He lived in a time when some men found it difficult to express "love" in the traditional sense, my father, like yours, seemed to express his love much the same as your father did, usually to others he associated with, but never directly.
Yeah, that time after my brother died and I came to visit dad in Santa Fe, I couldn't believe so many people were telling me how proud he was of me
From what I saw, he was a good father to the boys, his 3 sons from his 4th (and last) marriage. He was raising his second family at the same time I was raising my son. I was the first child, and just like making pancakes the first one is always "practice."
He was very involved in raising the boys, and very active in their lives. I can understand it was easier with boys, because they had "guy stuff" in common.
One of my few regrets is that I never got to know the "hunter" side of him except through others. There was a time, many years ago, when he asked me to go on a hunt with him (while he was working as a guide) and be the camp cook. I was honored that he would ask me, but it just wasn't a good time in my life...I had other family and financial responsibilities, and I put those first.
I find your posts very touching, the obvious admiration for the father who wasn't there for many of your lifes "moments" But at the same time knowing that if the occasion called for it, he would be there. Your ability to forgive his weakness's and even idolize him speaks volumes about yourself. I suspect that he is very proud of you. May he rest in peace.
I try very hard to see him as more than just my father, but for the man he was, and for the life he led. There's a saying that goes something like "Learn from the mistakes of others, because you'll never live long enough to make them all yourself." My dad taught me a lot by example, both good and bad. In looking back at his life, I'm so much like him in some ways it's spooky. In other respects, we couldn't be more different.
Dad had a tremendous potential for greatness....greatness that was never fully realized because of his addictions. And yet, what he accomplished
despite them, is just as amazing. I don't blame him at all for his addictions, because to be an alcoholic isn't a choice. But to refuse any sort of treatment, again and again and again...is. In his final years he alienated almost everyone who was close to him, because the alcohol had pickled his brain. He didn't chose to be that way, I know that, but the fact is...he was.
I never did learn to fire a shotgun without getting knocked on my behind. If he's in heaven and has memories of this life....I hope he keeps that one of me. I can imagine him and my brother Shawn together, laughing that I shoot like a girl.