Alternate Ending

Rose is dressed in her white long nightgown and slowly walks towards the stern of the boat. The sky is black and she is deep in thought.  When she finally reaches it immediately grabs hold of the rail and steps up on the first rung with her bare foot.  The wind is slightly moving and her beautifully messy white hair whips around her face.  She looks out at the ocean below and she is reminded she has been here before.  A time long ago when she debated jumping from a much larger boat and while remembering this she smiles.

The camera pulls back to see Brock (Titanic’s treasure hunter) and Lizzy (Rose’s granddaughter) having a conversation nearby.  Suddenly Lizzy looks up and sees her grandmother standing at the end of boat and fears for her safety.  Brock and Lizzy call after Rose and run to her.  A conversation ensues and then Rose finally reveals she’s had the “Heart of the Ocean” the entire time.  She holds it up ready to toss it in the ocean where she believes it belongs.  Brock panics and begs her to allow him to hold it in his hand even if it’s just for a moment.  She lowers it into his grasp where he stares in awe of the magnificent and brilliant diamond.  In the end Rose tosses it into the ocean while Brock watches with a jittery laugh while his search crew thinks they’ve all lost it!

Wait what?!!

I’ve watched the 1997 movie Titanic a thousand times and this is not how the movie ends.  Surprisingly there IS an alternate ending to mega box office hit film.  I will attach a You Tube link (scroll to the bottom) of the Soul Sparks tab of this blog where you can watch it for yourself. While I enjoyed viewing it I must say that I can understand why they opted for the other ending.  It was the right choice.

There have been many times in my life I’ve wished for alternate endings.  A chance for things to be different – to be made right.  Currently at the top of my list is the death of my father.  The phone call I received after dinner on April 7, 2017 will forever be engraved in mind and soul.  The news of his sudden death permanently solidified our separation on earth. Even a year later it’s hard to accept the fact that it’s over.  I wish so much that a lot of things could’ve been different between us, but that wasn’t the ending that was written.

Thinking back to the beginning our our relationship I realize it was built on a shaky foundation.  Love existed but danger did too.  You see we had inherited so many secrets and lies.  The desecration of our family slowly seeped into every area and hindered my relationship with my dad.  In case you’re wondering he never hurt me sexually or physically in any way or at any time.  He did, however, look the other way.  He refused to stand up for me and many times blamed me, and this caused even more pain.

“No no I don’t want to hear it – that was a long time ago so just get over it”. 

His words stung and immediately a tidal wave of emotions crashed all over me.

“How can you say that?”  I said in a tone that made me feel vulnerable and weak and I hated myself for it.

With a slight snicker he replied “Your problem is that you won’t give it God.”

Anger, sadness, disgust and disbelief became so powerful inside that I felt like it would swallow me whole.  His disregard to my safety and well-being was a huge chasm in our relationship.  Although this pattern repeated itself many times throughout the years he was still my father and I loved him.

He firmly believed that family was everything and you never ever went against them. Ironically it was also what divided our trust and confidence and hindered the bond between us.  He also had a loving and funny side too.  I loved our walks to the park and barbecues in the backyard.  Or how he would sing “La Mananitas” to me each year on my birthday.  My dad was the first person who told me that I could be anything in life – something I have tried to instill in my own children.

Here’s the thing- a lot of child abuse is perpetrated by family members.  In my case it was very much true.  A report is made every 10 seconds, but I think about how many more cases go unreported.  Why?  Maybe other families share my father’s view on family and choose to deny and remain silent.  It is possible to change family history and eradicate child abuse.  No more secrets – misplaced loyalty – or willingness to look the other way.

So many families hold terrible secrets that continue to be passed down from generation to generation.  It’s incredulous to think how long these sick acts go unquestioned or stopped because it’s family.  Our children are worth stepping out of our comfort zone. They are worth our love and protection.  It is possible to establish a strong sense of family without continuing to sacrifice our children.  It’s time for change, healing and most of all an alternate ending.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Art in Life: (Choices)

Sometimes in life there are times when it seems like you don’t have a choice.  Usually you feel that way when the option right in front of you isn’t the one you want.  To maneuver to a different one would require great effort or even sacrifice.

The truth is you always have a choice.   It’s just that sometimes you’ve earned consequences that must be paid in full until you can change your direction.  Believe me I know this to be personally true.

I struggle with the fact that I never got to speak to my dad before he died.  So I imagine what I would’ve said if I had been given the chance.  Would our conversation ended the way it had for years?  If so, that means I would be in the same place I am today.  Or would a switch have turned on inside him and his response finally be different?  I will never know.

It’s difficult to make sense of it because I don’t believe he hated me.  It just sometimes felt like it. There were a lot of beautiful memories between us – they just got lost in our choices.

My dad always told me I could do anything I wanted in life and become anything I desired.  For a time I believed him.  I danced ballet for many years, became a cheerleader, auditioned and had parts in a local theatre company, played sports, learned how to make stained glass, raised money for charities etc..  All because he told me it was possible.

My father was a dreamer and I am too.

I always tell my boys if their dreams don’t scare them then they aren’t dreaming big enough.  To never listen to nay-sayers – that anything is possible.  I think that is something my dad instilled in me.

The truth is he also shunned me and left a lot of hurt and pain behind.  So what do I do with it now?  It’s much too heavy to carry around all the time.  How do you hold a grudge against a dead person without feeling like an ass?  It’s a conflicted web of emotions.

I can’t tell you why my dad couldn’t or wouldn’t choose to fight for our relationship.  Maybe it was due to pride or embarrassment or anger?  In the end it all comes down to a choice.  Was it more important to be right or be in relationship?  The decision he made in some ways pierces my soul deeper than all the other abuse combined.

I never loved the relatives who abused me – not one single day in my life.  I did, however, loved, adored and trusted my dad.  So his words and actions cut me deep.  My head tells me he was a flawed human who probably lived a life that drove him to the choices he made.

So now in the end it comes down to my choice.  What will I do?  Will I decide to stay mad at him because I have so many raw and valid reasons?  What will this accomplish?  I am at total peace knowing I said everything I ever needed to say to him.  Especially the words “I love you and I will never give up hope things will one day work out between us.”  I just didn’t know that day would take place in heaven.

He was known by many names here on earth:

Hijo (son)

Hermano (brother)

Morro (hammerhead)

Compadre (godfather/friend)

Carnal (full; blood, brother/buddy)

Arturo (legal name)

Thudo (nick name)

Arthur (English version)

Pastor

Tata (grandfather)

Art (shortened name)

…..

The Art in Life was many things to many people.  I listened at the memorial services as friends and relatives described their experiences with him.  The stories were all beautiful and kind and sometimes made me laugh.

He was my dad and sometimes a stranger, and I choose to forgive the ending he left me.  I also choose to not miss the lesson he taught me about relationships and reconciliation.  I choose to not let the bad overtake the good.   I choose freedom and peace.

 

 

 

The Art of Life: Spending Chances

“You think behind every chance there’s another one, and then another one?  It’s the worst kind of extravagance – spending chances.”  Movie quote from Hope Floats

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Less than 24 hours after receiving the phone call my sister and I were sitting on a plane bound for Austin, Texas.  I felt empty and hollow and could barely process a thought.  Earlier I pulled a suitcase out of my closet and although I’ve packed a thousand times before – in this moment my brain was foggy and confused.  I stood over the open suitcase trying to figure out what was supposed to happen next.  Robbie literally had to walk me through the steps.

A few hours later my sister and I were up in the air with our hearts in our throats and on the verge of tears.  Instead of allowing our minds take complete control over us we decided to take turns sharing happy memories of our dad.   Our flight was a little over three hours so there was nothing else to preoccupy us.  It was the elephant in the room (aka cabin) so we choose to deal with it the best way we knew how.  I was surprised to learn she didn’t remember many of the stories I shared of our childhood.  She was the baby and was either evidently too young to remember or simply wasn’t there.

I knew her relationship with my dad was different from mine – I just didn’t realize how much.  I’m a parent to 3 sons and unfortunately the truth is your firstborn is typically the guinea pig.  Lots of trial and error and learning though mistakes. I’m the oldest sibling and my experiences with my dad was vastly dissimilar in so many ways.

My little sister wasn’t shy in expressing her love and affection towards our father.  I on the other hand rarely outwardly showed it.  Not because I didn’t feel it or want to – I absolutely did.  The truth is I was afraid.  Family members took advantage of my lack of power and naiveté and forced their sexually assaults and emotional abuse on me.  It took place when I expected it and least expected it.  So I was continually on guard.  In my mind IF my dad’s relatives could do this to me then maybe he would too?  There were never any signs he would do anything inappropriate, but I was always frightened and tense.  I stayed away from him during what I considered opportune times.  Like when my mom went to the grocery store, or when my brother and sister played outside.  I would either go outside and find something to do or lock myself in my bedroom.

I watched from the sidelines as my sister showered him with hugs, kisses and cuddled on his lap.  I just couldn’t bring myself to do these things.  It was a rare moment when I’d kiss my dad on his cheek.  Even then it was internally painful for me.  The abuse I’d been subjected to ruined all forms of appropriate touch for me.  I believed if my dad ever crossed the line with me – I would be like humpty-dumpty and never be whole again.  So at a very young age I decided to keep my distance.  Maybe my lack of affection when I was a child played a factor in our life long bumpy road of a relationship – I really don’t know.

Just thinking about it creates a new level of anger towards my abusers.  Not only did they steal my sanity, innocence and peace, but they unknowingly left me without years of precious moments between my dad and I.  Listening to my sister share these types of special memories of him is bittersweet because I realize I have none.  I desperately want to reminisce about sweet and loving exchanges between us, but I struggle to locate those memories.  Nothing to now help soothe the fact he is now gone.  This realization ushers feelings that could easily spiral out of control and ultimately stonewall my healing.

Pedophiles spent my chances as a young child with showing affection with my dad.   I must take solace in knowing that from the time I was born until the age of 4 it probably looked different.  I imagine as an infant and toddler I was uninhibited in expressing love and emotion towards him.  I just can’t remember it and now hurts to know that I can’t ever ask him to confirm it.

Before the plane landed I thought about how we both spent so many chances to fix our broken relationship.  It was the one thing I truly desired to happen before one of us left this earth.  He would hurt me and I would retreat from our relationship.  Then he’d take offense when I set a boundary and stop talking to me altogether.  It went on and on.  I kept the door of reconciliation open for decades hoping to one day see him standing there.  One day I was driving down a major street and I saw him walking on the sidewalk.  My thoughts immediately went back to when he asked to come see me before moving to Texas.

During our conversation I asked why he couldn’t love me.  With tears in his eyes he said “I want to feel joy when I look at your face but I can’t”.  Even after this happened I tried once more to reconcile but he became angry and defensive and blamed me once again for the abuse that took place in my life.  More wasted chances.  I cried as I treated my dad as a stranger and drove past him that day.  It was hard to accept that we had actually reached this place.

The last time I ever saw him he looked me in the eyes but we never spoke.  This final wasted chance will forever hurt the most.  My sister informed me the following day he had left Arizona and returned to Texas.  I told her I had a gut feeling that one of our parents would die soon.  I don’t know why I felt this way but it wouldn’t go away.   Exactly 7 weeks later I received the horrible phone call from my mother about my father’s death.  Even though he couldn’t tell me he loved me I just didn’t believe it was true.   I honestly think that pride held his tongue from saying those three words.   He taught me the importance of not spending chances.  When my time on earth is over I want my loved ones to know how exactly how I feel about them.   I never want them to wonder about it or feel cheated.

I do want to end this by saying that no matter what happened or didn’t happen between us that I love my dad very much.  I always will.  Did he have to endure spent chances growing up?  Did he (like me) hope that the significant people in his life loved him even when they didn’t show it?  I hope not.   It is through my faith in God that I know one day we will see each other again.  Disappointment, pride, pain and wasted chances will no longer exist.  The relationship God always intended for both of us will finally begin.

Will we remember the details of what happened here on earth?  Will our hearts explode with love for one other – so much so – that we’ll embrace each other for hours?  Will apologies be necessary or do they even exist in heaven?  I’m not sure.  What I do know is our chances will no longer be stolen, hindered or squandered, and I can’t tell you how much I anticipate that marvelous day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Art of Life – pt. 1 (The Phone Call)

My heart has shattered in a million pieces and I am a myriad of emotions.  It is my sincerest desire to communicate honestly, deeply and clearly what is on my heart and mind.  It is so difficult to even structure a sentence but for some reason I feel compelled to write.  Day after day I’ve intentionally avoided my laptop.  Today it was as if there was a super magnet inside me drawing me to it.  I realize I can’t stay away from it another second.  Forgive me if I jump around a lot or make it difficult to follow along but you see

my father has died.

I wasn’t prepared for the phone call I received 19 days ago.   It took me by complete surprise and it felt as if all the air was sucked out of me.  NO NO NO NO!!  How can this be? This CANNOT be happening!  It’s not supposed to end this way between us.  I’m just not ready.  We’re not ready – there was more to come, right?   I couldn’t think anymore and tried to suppress the tears forming in the corner of my eyes…

Was he really gone?

I was at home spending the evening with my husband, son, his girlfriend and my grandson.  It was a beautiful night.  We ate dinner together and had just settled into the living room to watch television and relax.  A perfect way to unwind from the work week and usher in the weekend.  I sat on the couch so grateful for the beautiful weather and my current company.  I adore my family and cherish the time our adult children choose to spend with us.  Friday is my favorite day of the week and I was content and at peace when my cell phone rang.

I looked down and saw that my cousin (more like a brother) was calling me.  It wasn’t unusual for him to call so I walked into the kitchen and swiped the green button.

“Hello”

“Hello Bita”

“Oh hey how are you?”

“What are you doing?”  He said it in a kinda controlled and careful voice and immediately I knew something was up.

“Nothing, just hanging out at home tonight?” “Why?”

“Well, I just got off the phone with my mom.  She just spoke to your mom and there’s something going on with your dad.”

Just then I heard my phone beep and I pulled it off my ear to see who was calling me.  It was my mom.  Our relationship was broken and virtually nonexistent.  We hadn’t spoken in a while.  In fact I saw her at my uncle’s funeral one month prior and she refused to even look in my direction.  As much as I desired it – I knew she wasn’t calling to reconcile with me.  My heart sank to my toes – in that moment it became crystal clear – I knew the reason for her call.

My dad was dead.

I vaguely remember ending the conversation with my cousin and my head was spinning.  I walked out the front door and noticed it was dark outside and looked up at the moon.  I unlocked my phone and dialed my mom’s number – it only rang once.

“Bita something is wrong with your dad.”

“What’s going on?”

“The police are here now.  They are in the bathroom with your dad.”

“Mom what happened?”

She began to give me fragments of information and I desperately tried to piece it together.  I immediately became frustrated but realized I needed to keep calm.

“Mom are you okay?”  It was a stupid question but I was fumbling for thoughts and words.

“No.”

“Mom who is there with you?”

My parents were living with relatives in a small town in Texas, and she told me she wasn’t alone.  The police had informed her there was no need to call an ambulance.  They were waiting on the Justice of the Peace to officially declare his death.  I could hear people in the background and she went between talking to me to talking to them.  I just wanted to scream.  I continued to talk to her and did my best to comfort her through the phone.  Not long after representatives of funeral home arrived to take his body.

He was no longer a living and breathing person because his heart completely stopped working.  His lifeless body was now only left behind on earth – along with my mom, brother, sister and I.  Living 1,040.8 miles away meant I would never have the opportunity to ever see him again.  I told myself “don’t think about that right now “ – I  just needed to get to my mom.  I spoke to her while they carried his body out of the house.  I didn’t know how she was enduring it – I could barely handle what was happening through the phone.

I walked back in the house and shared the news with my family.  The tears I struggled to contain exploded out of me.  I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.  I still didn’t want to believe it was true.  Maybe I was dreaming?  Maybe I would wake up soon with my heart beating loudly and tears falling from eyes and realize it was only a dream.  A wild vivid dream that felt so frightenly real.  This has happened to me many times before so why couldn’t it be true now?  Please be like this right now I thought.   But I knew no matter how much I desired for this to only be a nightmare in my mind – it wasn’t.  It was a reality I would have to live with for my rest of my life – asleep and awake.