I was raised on westerns. John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Bonanza and the all time classic, The Magnificent Seven.
Looking back, I suppose it would make sense that the source of my epiphany would be a western. A light hearted one at that; probably Life’s way of attempting to help me find my sense of humour, just as Mitch Robbins played by Billy Crystal in City Slickers would go off to find his on a cattle drive in Colorado.
Barry, who I’ve previously introduced you to, my father had left us. You’ve heard of “Go big or go home.” Well, he went big and left home in Carlisle, Ontario Canada for the outback of Esperance Australia.
Periodically Barry would return to Canada. On one such occasion he came to take one of my younger brothers back with him — a story in itself. On the eve of my brother’s departure we met for dinner at my grandma’s, Barry’s mom. We all sat with our shrimp cocktails, filet mignons and wine and pretended it was a normal family dinner.
The “we” however, did not include me. I’m not good at pretending. I sat throughout the whole meal beside the woman my father had left us for, who had accompanied him on his new adventure, sobbing into by food. The kind of sobbing that is relentless, with synchronized gulping for air and whining sounds. In spite of the compassion I felt I deserved, I’m sure someone, if not everyone wanted to slap me into a “snap out of it” reality.
Gram decided that we should take a break between the main course and dessert. I escaped to the patio, where she followed me and pushed me up against the house. This was very out of character; my Gram was my fairy godmother. Sweet, perfectly dressed in matching everything with an expertly coiffed French roll of red hair. She should have been waving a wand at this point with a bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, promising me that everything would be okay.
Instead she was in my face and in a controlled, under-her-breath command she ordered me, “YOU MUST ACCEPT THIS!”
As she was not in character, I followed suit with, “I WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS!”
And poof! The spell of another dose of stubborn energy latched on to me. Oh my, as if I needed more of this attitude.
What I wouldn’t accept was that my father did not love us. He’d confirmed this to me in a Q &A moment in our kitchen when my mother broke the news. I asked, “Don’t you love us anymore?” and he replied with a shrug and a smirk, “No.” Others would confirm this by telling us that we hadn’t been a good enough family or a man like him would not have left.
A short aside here. Who the hell says that to kids who have just had their world ripped out from under them??
Okay, that’s out of my system — we can now continue.
But I wouldn’t accept. I felt I could make it work. I’d write letters telling him how we were all doing, all the good things about us, like the letters people send at Christmas where they recite all the wonderful accomplishments that their family has achieved over the year. They leave out all the other “real” moments, like the totalling of the family car, the child you caught making out and then the one that has now been finger printed and not in case they go missing kind of finger printing. Just the “smile and say cheese” part of life gets into the letter. I did this with the goal that my dad would reconsider and switch over into loving us, come to his senses and make us important.
It would take till 1991, watching Billy Crystal mount a horse and ride out into the open range to realize it was me that needed to come to my senses and accept.
The character Mitch is having a mid-life crisis at thirty-nine and attempting to find whatever he’s missing during a cattle drive with some friends. Curly Wishburn an old, crusty, seasoned cowboy attempts to share some wisdom with the city slicker.
“The secret to life is one thing, just one thing. You stick to that and everything else don’t mean shit.”
“That’s great, but what’s the one thing?”
“That’s what you gotta figure out.”
This one thing is more about what is important to you, your truth. But in that moment it translated to me as the one thing that was holding me back. It came screaming forward from my past. “I WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS!”
Seventeen years from my moment with Gram, the snivelling into the shrimp cocktail, filet mignon dinner table moment, I woke up.
To ACCEPT.
Moments when Life shakes you up and takes you through upheaval. Life says, “This is over, you’re done here, time for change, time to move.” You can go kicking and screaming, you can doddle and wait for the perfect moment, or you can accept with grace; to the times when what has been is no longer.
The trying to get someone to love you — the, “I can make it work,” does not work.
When they’re leaving, it is meant to give you something, not take something from you.
Giving others the power to discern whether you are worthy of loving is unfortunate. This is not their responsibility.
It is our responsibility.
It is our responsibility to remember we are Love and therefore we are worthy. This sets us on a course that brings more love into our lives.
My One Thing – Accept.
I Accept that Life changes. Experiences, relationships will come and they will go and I will choose to be the better, no, the richer for them.
I Accept that I am Love.
As Curly said, “…You stick to that, and everything else don’t mean shit.”
To be continued.
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