There have been rather scant consistencies throughout my life, but one of those things that seems to hold true no matter my location or state of mind, is the stoic expression and attitude of my father. I have recently began to suffer a crippling depression as a result of my move to Hong Kong; this depression came to a head at the American Club last Thursday. I suddenly became so consumed by the hopelessness that pervaded my spirit that I had to quit the squash rally and cry on the bleachers outside of the court. After defeating my brother Peter in another match, my dad exited the court and sat beside me.
He asked, “What’s the matter son? I have never seen you flustered enough to quit a sport in the middle of the match.” I explained the internal turmoil that ravaged me and he responded by relaying his personal experience. His eyes fluttered as he prepared to divulge some monumental secret. I perceived a tear, as it steadily trickled along the contours of his nose. He opened his mouth and his voice seemed to erratically quiver as it replaced the oppressive silence. “Every man experiences a period of great loss in his life Jack, and sometimes these losses manifest themselves in the loss of one person or the loss of something much more significant.” He paused. “Have you ever seen me cry boy?”
I thought long-and-hard, pondering this question, attempting to remember even one moment that I had seen my dad cry, either in happiness or in sadness. I could not remember having ever seen my father cry; this realization astonished me, it seemed inconceivable that through my 16 years of life, I had never seen my father cry. I responded, “no”. He smiled and chuckled, apparently pleased by his external non-emotiveness. “I have only cried three times in my adult life Jack. I cried once the day that your mother agreed to marry me.” He smiled as the memory of that day filled his mind. “ I cried once on the day that I eulogized at your grandfather’s funeral” The mood seemed to devolve into its former oppressive self. “And I cried the first day that I left home to attend college” This last admission surprised me, dad obviously picked up on the subtle jump in my features. “ Yup, I absolutely balled. BALLED!!! I’d been sitting on my bunk alone in my dorm room, I had just met the 2 blokes that I’d be spending the next year sleeping alongside, and suddenly this feeling of hopelessness came over me. In that moment I realized that life, as I had perceived it, was over. Nothing could ever be the same, I could never return to those football fields beneath the Glenn and kick around with my pals, I’d never be able to stroll over to Gavin’s place and pull him off to the Pub for a pint and some attractive female company. I had lost everything that I believed to define me.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Those tears Jack, the tears still running along your cheeks, they mean that you had something special, something worth holding on to and cherishing for the rest of your life. Your friends shall never leave you as long as you put out the effort to stay close. That home, that place you feel you belong can never truly be gone, as long as you invest yourself in them and in your actions.” He stood up and yanked me to my feet, the match resumed as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.
The tide lapped against the shore creating a strange sense of serenity. It seemed to pervade my soul and massage the tension out of my aching muscles. The quite lapping of the South China Sea suddenly became corrupted by the shrill voice of my mother, but her voice seemed different, as if some monumental truth tittered on the tip-of her tongue. I sat expecting to hear a long deserved apology, but instead came a profound understanding and sense of mutual suffering. My mother’s voice seemed to emanate in unsteady spurts as if she struggled to force every phrase out of her mouth. A metaphorical damn about to burst, releasing a deluge of compassion. I noticed that her hands shook and I began to understand that for some inconceivable reason my mother was nervous. “Jack I cannot imagine the pain that you are experiencing at the moment, but I can relate to the feeling of loss and bitterness that you constantly express. I have told you about Tommy Thomas before haven’t I?” I perceived a brief glimmer pass through her eyes, as she remembered those precious moments in the arms of a High School lover. “Yea” I responded tersely. After my first “real” kiss in 6th grade my mom could not stop talking about Tommy, the cute little things that Tommy had done often inspired me. “I thought him to be the love of my life, I had never felt such strong feelings for another person before Tommy, and I convinced myself that no matter the circumstances, love could keep us together” She laughed as the innocence of youth seemed to amuse her, “but it could not” a tear rolled along the side-of her face seeming to punctuate the suffering in her voice. “Tommy had to leave for college after my sophomore year of High School, I thought that our love could handle the distance.” Unexpectedly her expression changed to a bitter scowl. “I thought that the 2 of us could be sustained by ‘love’. I assumed that he’d remain loyal after he left, but often our expectations exceed those that could be considered reasonable”. The voice that for moments had sounds emotive and melancholy, devolved into a monotone, expressionless, shell of its former self. “He had sex with 2 different girls in his first couple-of days at University of North Carolina and I faded into a distant memory ‘just another girl’”. She paused and attempted to collect herself. She dried her tears, and attempted to re-establish some semblance of stability, although I could see her eyes quiver as if the damn, carefully constructed by 30 years of bitterness, could shatter at any moment. “This destroyed my confidence, and I descended into a crippling depression. I could no longer accept the concept of love. It had become a fairy-tale, a fallacy meant to manufacture physical desire. I had other boyfriends, but I could never connect to any of them, I could never truly return their feelings.” She abruptly stopped her monotone recitation as my father strolled into the restaurant, his distinctive Scottish grin spread across his fading visage. The years had been tough on both of them, but in that moment I knew that he had saved her.
No comments:
Post a Comment