Memories of Dad....

The other night we drove up to see our grandson.  I could tell as soon as we arrived the energy in the house wasn't good and something was bothering Mike.

We played with Raymond a bit and then Ky rocked him to sleep.  We were there maybe an hour.

The phone rang and since the portable was right behind me I reached around to get it and pass it to Mike.  It was an awkward reach, and instead of picking it up I bumped into the base and phone fell from the cradle and crashed to floor.  Oooops.

"For F--ck sakes!"  Mike yelled, "You're as bad a Kim!"  He jumped up from the couch, grabbed the phone and chatted with his cousin.

I was shocked.  I was aware of a huge lump in my throat and started to will myself not to cry.  I swallowed hard as my eyes met Ky's.  I could see her compassion; she knew what was happening for me.  I felt as though I was 10 years old.  I had just done something wrong - maybe spilled my glass of milk or something else as horrible as that.  My dad was in the room admonishing me, shaming me, making me feel responsible for every bad thing that ever happened to him. 

I had to get out of there!  I needed to leave so that I could express this fresh batch of shame without hurting anyone else.

I managed to make small talk for a couple of minutes and then said to Ky, "Well, honey I think we better go - it's a long drive home.  Thanks for the visit you guys - it's always so great to see Raymond."  Kim glanced my way and then at Mike.  "Mike, apologize to your mom!"  "I'm sorry mom."  Mike looked at the floor and the shame I felt moments earlier was now born on his shoulders.  "I'm sorry I dropped your phone Mike."  I squeaked, then quick hugs, and we headed to the car, tears trailing down my cheeks.

As we drove away Ky's hand slipped over mine and her love and support fell around my shoulders and held me while my tears eased the pressure in my chest and soothed the lump in my throat.

I felt bad for Mike because I knew there was obviously something going for him that had him stressed and that he had been unable to resolve before we arrived.  In no way did I hold Michael responsible for my reaction to his outburst.  Someone without my issues may not even have acknowledged his bad manners : ).  I spent the rest of the drive home marvelling at how deeply my childhood hurts run and knowing this most recent opportunity to process was a gift.

This morning Mike called.  He was inviting us up for the day, but unfortunately we have other obligations.  He said, "Mom I'm so sorry I yelled at you the other night."  I smiled into the phone, "I know you are Mike.  It's ok.  I already forgave you.  You know, my hurt about it had nothing to do with you.  When you yelled I felt like I was 10 years old.  I was remember my dad yelling at me and making me feel stupid all the time.  My emotions had nothing to do with you honey - really."  I took a breath and finished my thought, "Mike, I was thinking on the way home about it.  I just hope that you find a way to work out your frustration and anger in a way that doesn't impact Raymond.  Of course he's a baby now, but as he grows he'll make mistakes and if you yell at him like that it will hurt him Mike.  Here I am, still hurting so much from things my dad said to me and how his anger was directed at me.  I just hope you don't do that to Raymond."

"I know Mom." he said.

I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to share this truth with Mike in a way and in a time that allowed him to hear it.