I am not overly sentimental about this date -or this anniversary. I am not emotional about what my baby is missing -because Léo has a wonderful grandfather (make that two as Joe's dad is an amazing Pa as well). Because I never lived with my father and because he died right before I turned 12 I never got to know him, really. I mean, I knew him of course , but I never got to talk to him about his childhood, his dreams, his thoughts. My relationship with him was good but not perfect. I remember dreading seeing him and spending time with him -mainly because he was so busy with work. I remember walking in front of him in the street, almost as if I were ashamed -oh, and I am ashamed now to even admit it, believe me! There's a French song that says "she cries when I'm here and laughs when I go away" and even when he was still alive that made me think me of my father. Of course I remember when he told me he had AIDS and how I was just like "you have what?" because it was 1991 and frankly I didn't know much about that illness -and also because he and my mom had gotten into a fist fight over me and I was a bit shocked about that. I remember bragging to my friends that my dad had AIDS, don't you know, and that I really wanted him to die. And then he did, a year after he told me about it and only 5 years after he was diagnosed and I bit my words and even as I was crying on my mom's shoulders the night she told me he died I scolded myself "well, you wanted him dead and he is dead. Why are you crying?" So mainly I remember what I felt about him, but I don't remember much of him.
(One of the reasons for this rapid health decline was that he had gotten malaria in Ivory Coast during a movie gig and the fever and other symptoms came back every month or so because his body was too weak to fight the infection. I have no idea whether he had anti malarial meds or antiretrovirals)
And I don't know if I miss him. Again, I have a really great dad. My adoption was final a little more than a year after my father died -because my mom was well too aware of her suicidal tendencies and didn't want me to be left an orphan and because he loved me and wanted me to be family. So I have a dad, who cares for me, helped me study, makes me laugh, walked me to the altar, and has been there every step of the way from age 8 on. So no, I don't exactly miss my father -much to my mother's dismay and anger. But I wish he were here right now. I wish I could introduce him to Léo. I wish we could talk about his life and his childhood and what it was like to grow up Algerian in France (you know me, the political mind!), what it was like to be in the movie industry, what it was like to be diagnosed at 30, just... what it was like to be him. I wish I could hold him and tell him I am sorry for not visiting at the hospital, for hating his family so much (because really, they behaved like douches when he passed away), for not going to his funeral (see previous point about his family), and for not being there in the last moments. I would hug him and tell him that I love him and that I tried to follow in his footsteps by studying film at UCLA but really, I was not cut throat enough. I would tell him that I wanted Léo's middle name to be Faouzi but that it wouldn't have been fair to Serge or Jeff. I would tell him that I might sound nutsy but I know he's watching over Léo. And I would tell him to go in peace and that he lives in my heart -and that he has been there, daily, for 20 years.
We're all the result of our parents' lives and choices. I carry all 3 of my parents' lives within me. And whether I really knew him or not, whether I think I was a good daughter or not, whether his family thinks I'm his biological daughter or not, whether I've known him dead twice more than I've known him alive, he's here, in me, DNA, temperament, and history. I am my father's daughter.
And I don't know if I miss him. Again, I have a really great dad. My adoption was final a little more than a year after my father died -because my mom was well too aware of her suicidal tendencies and didn't want me to be left an orphan and because he loved me and wanted me to be family. So I have a dad, who cares for me, helped me study, makes me laugh, walked me to the altar, and has been there every step of the way from age 8 on. So no, I don't exactly miss my father -much to my mother's dismay and anger. But I wish he were here right now. I wish I could introduce him to Léo. I wish we could talk about his life and his childhood and what it was like to grow up Algerian in France (you know me, the political mind!), what it was like to be in the movie industry, what it was like to be diagnosed at 30, just... what it was like to be him. I wish I could hold him and tell him I am sorry for not visiting at the hospital, for hating his family so much (because really, they behaved like douches when he passed away), for not going to his funeral (see previous point about his family), and for not being there in the last moments. I would hug him and tell him that I love him and that I tried to follow in his footsteps by studying film at UCLA but really, I was not cut throat enough. I would tell him that I wanted Léo's middle name to be Faouzi but that it wouldn't have been fair to Serge or Jeff. I would tell him that I might sound nutsy but I know he's watching over Léo. And I would tell him to go in peace and that he lives in my heart -and that he has been there, daily, for 20 years.
We're all the result of our parents' lives and choices. I carry all 3 of my parents' lives within me. And whether I really knew him or not, whether I think I was a good daughter or not, whether his family thinks I'm his biological daughter or not, whether I've known him dead twice more than I've known him alive, he's here, in me, DNA, temperament, and history. I am my father's daughter.
That is a picture that was taken in December 1989, a few weeks after my brother's birth. We all celebrated Christmas together and somehow two pictures taken that day collided into one, showing (shoving!) my parents together. Pretty neat, huh?
2 comments:
I love this post. I've talked with you a bit about your Dad before but not in this much detail, and it's good to hear what's on your heart and mind. This is beautiful and I'm sure he's so proud of you and watching over Leo. It's so interesting how we are, literally, products of our parents lives and choices yet uniquely our own people too.
Jen said it perfectly. This was a beautifully written post. Thank you for sharing.
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