There is no doubt that the weather around the world has been quite a challenge for some. The blistery cold has made it unbearable. The Colorado weather however doesn’t get as nasty as some places, except for last week. The zero below cold snap usually lasts for a week or two, and passes through a couple of times during the winter months. This last visit from Mister Zero Below got the best of me. It seemed like no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get warm and to make matters worse, my head felt like a block of ice. The cold dry air nestled into my forehead producing a discomforting sinus headache. With no success from sinus relief meds, I decided to use a gift I received a few Christmas’s ago. I placed my anti-stress pillow in the microwave to heat up the multitude of injected lavender and chamomile beads. I proceeded to lie on my bed and placed the pillow over my forehead. Within moments, I could feel the warmth seep into my chilled skin. Finally the burning sensation throughout the bridge of my nose and tension in my forehead began to dissipate. All of my stress slowly dissolved as the warmth flowed through my body and I peacefully drifted off to sleep.
I found myself at the bottom of the steps, exiting a subway station. I knew I was home. I was born in New York and only lived there until my early teens, but no matter what, New York has always held a special place in my heart. I reached the street and looked up at a water color grey sky. The streets looked familiar as if I had been there before, yet couldn’t remember. I turned to look down one side of the street and then the other and realized that the only colors I could see were that of black and white. The environment mimicked the same look of old family photos taken so long ago. Grey sidewalks lined the streets for what appeared as forever and the brick buildings with shops on the ground level, varied in lighter to darker hues of grey and sometimes black. The windows were dusty and fogged as if they had never been cleaned. Cars dotted the streets circa the nineteen fifties. I couldn’t remove the overwhelming sense of loneliness which engulfed my being. The streets were barren of life. I knew I had to move on since the entry to the subway changed into a black abyss. I wasn’t frightened, just perplexed as to what I should do next. Out of my peripheral vision, a form appeared on the sooty sidewalk in front of my feet. I looked down and there were men shoe prints staring up at me. I placed my feet over them and as I did, more appeared guiding me to my destination. I walked for many blocks and passed empty mom and pop shops from delis to clothing stores which at one time, were filled with bustling life. “How sad” I thought. Continuing on, I viewed the landscape scarred by graffiti. I weaved in and out of rusted tables to sell souvenirs and hot dog carts, propped on three wheels. As I looked above, dirty silvery trains remained perched on the overhead subway platforms. Along my travel, a thick warm and humid gust of wind blew against me. It was then all at once, the prints ceased to go on. I could not proceed, for I felt an invisible wall stopping me. I turned to my left and looked up to see the marquee of a business. I stopped in front of a barber shop. Nervousness and anger arose as I stood there, knowing where I was in the Bronx. Stress was enveloping my being and sensing I needed to get a grip, I whispered to myself, relax. Not sure if I should go in, I walked up to the window stalling my encounter and wiped away a small circle of dust to see inside. The shop was small with only two barber chairs and two guest chairs. The paint that was once colored white had been chipped off of the walls in large patches. Broken picture frames hung sideways and cobwebs dangled from light fixtures. The barber chairs were tattered and worn. Cracked salon mirrors were hazy, while scattered newspapers blanketed the floor. A strange tall figure sat in the corner draped in a long hooded light grey cape. The face, hands and feet were unattainable. All I could see in the pocket of the hood was a faint colored mist of pink, bordered in turquois. It was so refreshing to see different colors. A man walked over to one of the barber chairs and pretentiously stood there waiting for me to come in and have a seat.
This man was someone I never knew and was always longing to meet, because I lived in constant curiosity of him. At times I wondered what he was doing. Did he ever think of me? What did I do to make him not love me? I wondered what it would be like just to see him once. I always wanted to ask him questions upon questions and in between everything I wanted, I loathed him all of my life.
Now, I was going to walk through the door to meet my father for the very first time. When I opened the door, a little tarnished bell rang with a dull chime. The atmosphere felt suffocating, like a room sealed off from any fresh air in a very long time. As I closed the door behind me, my father turned to greet me and said “Please, come in and sit down.” He gestured, and rested his hand on the rickety old chair. I stared at the man who I only knew through pictures and stories, from various family members. He was not at all the tall, clean cut handsome young man with a charismatic smile. His stature remained somewhat lanky, but his white shirt and black slacks were wrinkled and frayed. His shoes were old and scuffed, with shoe laces at different lengths. His pencil thin mustache could hardly be distinguished from the scruff of his beard and his short haircut could not mask more white hair than black. This was not the man I stared at when I was growing up and poring over photo albums. It was not the man who everyone explained to me was impeccable in his grooming, automobile and demanding in the household. Was I about to see the ruthless, vicious man whose anger was capable of causing bones to rattle from fear? As I continued to stare, his weathered appearance could not hide who he really was. I approached slowly and sat down. The chair squealed sharply and caused me to jump. My father placed his hand on my shoulder and said “Don’t be afraid, I promise you, you are safe.” I tried to sit still, as I felt a rush of good and bad deep emotions. He continued to place both hands on my shoulders and stated “I understand you have been having some horrible headaches.” I wanted to say “If you only knew.” but answered with a “Yes.” “May I can help you with your headaches?” he asked. I became impatient and wanted to roll up my sleeves and kick some ass. “Look, I don’t have a headache right now and I need to settle some things with you!” I exclaimed. He remained calm and focused. “I understand” was his response. He reached to open a draw of his barber shop stand and pulled out a brilliantly glowing gold hand towel. He folded it in three and rested it upon my neck. The temped, soft material released comfort through my body. He walked in front of me and dragged a small stool over to him, sat down and began the conversation.
“I am glad we finally have a chance to meet. I know you have much to convey and so do I. This is not going to be easy for either of us. I can only hope that we both can receive greater understanding and grow for the better.” He solemnly said in a low soft voice. His compassionate tone ignited my anger and it got the best of me. I blurted out “How dare you! Are you out of your frigging celestial mind? I am supposed to understand how a father can abandon his children. Never once wondering if we were alive or dead! You never cared about the welfare of me or my brother and sister. You never cared about us in the least! You’re a f***g coward!” I was ready to engage in war at that point. He sat witnessing the rage he fueled and knew he couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help myself but to continue to rant on “You enjoyed sleeping around with your lot of woman and then when it was time to stand up to your responsibility, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t be inconvenienced. You were a narcissistic son of bitch! How does a parent throw their children away, huh? You ripped a hole in my brother’s and sister’s heart and crushed my soul! Yes, I was told it was better that you left, but never once reaching out as a man would do? You weren’t a man; you were just a lousy stinking coward!” I was exasperated and winded which caused me to sit back in my seat. In the brief moment of silence, I slowly asked “What do you want from me? This was your idea, not mine.” I shook my head demonstrating “no” and said “I have nothing of value to offer you, dad.”
He sat quietly while his grief produced tiny wrinkled slivers throughout his face. He tapped his fingers against each other and glanced at the strange figure in the corner of the room. He then refocused on me and said “You are right, I can’t defend myself, nor do I wish to.” I commented in a cocky tone “Well, isn’t that big of you.” “No, it is not” he added. “It is not even equivalent to one of your tear drops.” I fought to give him my attention. “What I did was incomprehensible and from that you acquired burdens, heartache, and self hatred. You believed if I didn’t love you, than you were not worthy of love.” Rage still simmered in me and I asked “So now you are the almighty scholar?” “I am far, far, from almighty, but I have come to see and understand many things, and yet have so much more to understand.” he confessed. It took all I had not to tell him to “shove it and go f*** himself” and walk out. Instead I spat in his face, ripped the golden towel from my neck, wiped my mouth and threw it at him. I placed my foot on the floor and he turned back to the hooded stranger and I heard from the stranger “Elena, please stay and listen.” I looked at him with shear disdain and said “I have greater satisfaction spitting on you, rather than peeing on your grave in fantasy! I scooted back in the seat and gave my father an uncomfortable benefit of the doubt.
“We all participate and accept the design of our physical being and its story. Many of us deviate from the design horrifically, which does not serve us well and in the process we bruise the souls of others in varying degrees. I have done so. I cannot tell you why I chose to make the decisions that I did, because I have yet to understand my being’s purpose. I not only abandoned you and your siblings, but I abandoned my soul. I abandoned love. I can tell you that in my physical state, I had hatred and my angered ego wanted to inflict the pain that it was going through. There are no excuses. That is what it is. You too have deviated from your design.” At that moment I began to fume at the accusations I thought I was going to hear. Again I heard the stranger’s voice telling me to wait. “You deviated in many ways which brought you extreme challenges, but you retained love. You let your challenges help you to grow and become a better person. That is what matters. Wrong upon wrong will never make right, but wrong with reflection can produce goodness. You have accomplished that in many ways.” “So what are you telling me? What? You’re pleased with me and that is supposed to make up for everything?” I asked snobbishly. I couldn’t believe he remained so calm and focused with my attitude. I was waiting for him to explode like a bomb and show his wrath, so I could show him mine. He didn’t. I could see him struggle, but he remained steadfast. “It wouldn’t matter if I told you I was pleased or proud of you. Do you know why? I gave in and asked “No, why?” “It’s only a fleeting moment of joy when someone tells you that they are proud of you, because you do not love your self.” I felt a sunken feeling in my stomach, if I had a stomach then. “You did not turn mean when you were hurt so bad that you could feel your soul cry.” At that point I knew he had seen my darkest moments. “Yes I have.” He answered me. I am now faced with viewing what I have done to the people I was designed to give to and receive love from. My challenge is to also understand forgiving myself. The environment that surrounds us, I designed for my actions. Forgiveness is easiest to be achieved in the physical realm. What I caused in your life, turned into the effect of your self punishment. If we only knew how powerful cause and effect truly is.” He gently shook his head and said “I am so sorry.” I could feel what I thought to be his heart breaking, and at that point, he told me it was my heartbreak I was feeling.
The room became deafeningly silent. His eyes stared into mine. I knew he wanted me to truly connect to everything he had to convey. Through the silence we began to be encapsulated in a sphere of a beautiful environment, sitting below an old oak tree, on a lush green lawn, with crystal blue skies. Birds softly flew onto the thick branches. My father appeared as the man from my photos, handsome, wearing a crisp white shirt and perfectly creased black pants. His shoes were shiny, displaying our reflections and he began again. “Elena, it is not unusual for us in the physical to react or perform in unfavorable ways. This happens when our personal anger is deeply rooted in the pain within us. The anger should be a sign we recognize as a need to heal our selves from personal trauma. In the physical, I purposely ignored my pain and saw nothing wrong with inflicting sorrow on others. It was a sick enjoyment. I have been given the grief and grace of seeing, feeling and hearing your life experiences from my actions. My grief is that you have made yourself accountable for my negligence. You wear responsibility and accountability like a suit of armor. Holding yourself accountable for my actions and blaming yourself for those who have severely mistreated you, disintegrates who you really are. How much more baggage can an innocent person carry? Condemning your self in every way, gives you distorted relief. What I did was not your fault. Your beliefs will not allow you to spread your wings and soar like your physical was designed for.”
I heard above my head a precious bird chirp, melodiously. I smiled at it when it popped his head out of its nest as tears trickled down my cheeks. “See, that little guy agrees with me.” My father added with a slight smile. “The bond between a father and daughter is the most precious gift that can be shared. I helped annihilate that love. You, my daughter experienced the absence of a father, childhood sexual abuse and never having a positive male influence in life. All of that can lead a young girl or woman to devastating destructive ways. With so much you have been through, you are still filled with love and compassion. You become distraught when you hear abuse of any kind, because you are a loving person. You are deserving of only good. Continuing to tell yourself lies is going against the grain of who you really are. When our ego is damaged, we want to lash out, but you have lashed out at yourself far more than someone who deserves to be corrected. So what that you have lashed out at others. How else would you identify the need to heal? Lashing out does not give you comfort. Those who love you recognize who you are, and those who do not, are the ones you discovered as deceitful and liars.”
He placed his arm around my shoulder and gently kissed my forehead as I wept uncontrollably. He hugged me with both arms and as he wept, our pain met. He whispered to me “I cannot tell you what to do. I can only ask. Please forgive yourself of the lies that have filled your head and purge your being of the beliefs you torment yourself with.” He no longer needed to ask me, as I was beginning to feel my self inflicted filth release.
Turning my head gently up with his finger tips, he said “I am so sorry I threw away the opportunity to have you in my physical life. You have given me and yourself the courage and understanding for continuing our soul’s evolution. I am so proud to know you are my daughter.”
Within the blink of an eye we were standing outside of the barber shop. He returned to the old worn out man with tattered clothes as rain poured down on both of us and began washing away the soot, from the sidewalk. He opened the door and we raced into the barber shop. The stranger in the corner of the room stood up and proceeded slowly toward us. My father turned to me, letting me know that I would be leaving shortly. Then said “Teacher, this is my daughter Elena. Thank you for allowing us to meet. Thank you Elena, for your transcending love.” We both stood there looking at each other. I stepped forward and embraced him with a tight hug. Whispering in my ear for the last time, I heard, “You must go now and begin a new. I have yet a lot of work to accomplish. Remember, you are a garden bursting into life. You are the reason, I love you.”
The teacher opened the door for me and escorted me down the street. We stopped at a subway entrance. I looked down the steps to see a crystal clear vision of a garden. To my amazement, the black abyss was gone and I looked back to say something. Half way down the street my father’s teacher stood facing me, no longer shrouded in a grey robe. He was a handsome young gentleman, with gentle smile and dressed all in white. His glowing gold tie fluttered gracefully in the cool comforting wind. He turned around and he was gone.
I fell asleep with a borrowed hatred for a man, who was what he was, and woke as a woman who is becoming the person she was designed to be.
“A Garden Bursting into Life” lyrics by musical artists, Snow Patrol, song, “Chasing Cars”
“The reason” lyrics by musical artist Hoobastank, song, “The Reason”