Early on...

Some of my most difficult memories to recall are some of my earliest. I think that most people have a hard time remembering much from their early childhood, but there are a few memories for me that play in my head as if they were yesterday. They are not pleasant. They are not kind. They are the ones that most people would care not to mention or relive again. But these difficult times are what helped shape me and who I am today and worth mentioning and revisiting. I believe everything happens the way it is supposed to, although we may not always understand why until much later in life.

My mother and father divorced when I was three years old. It was probably one of the best things to happen for us but one of the worst things to happen to me as a child. At the time it was unfolding, it was full of anger and resentment, tears and anxiety. My father, rest his soul, was an alcoholic. And it is because of this that the marriage to my mother failed. I remember him telling me that it was my mother's fault; that if she had a pitcher of iced tea ready for him when he got home from work, instead of hanging out at my grandmother's house (which was only three houses away), that he would not have had to drink the suit case of beer he bought to relax after work. I would humor his suggestion and just say, "yeah dad" but I knew where the fault lied. And maybe, it wasn't even my father's fault for drinking like he did; it was in his genes and reinforced during his childhood. There really isn't too much I remember from this tumultuous time, but the one thing that stands out is an argument between my mother and father. My dad was drunk and he and my mother were yelling back and forth at one another. My father approached my mother and began yelling even louder and I was so scared he was going to get physical with her. I got between the two of them and began to wilding swing my fists to defend my mom. I do not really recall if he did attempt to strike her, but I don't believe he had it in him. I just remember crying and swinging, just trying to get them both to stop. He left. I don't really remember what happened after that, but I remember feeling such a wave of pride and relief, giving way to sadness. I felt proud that I defended my mother. I was relieved that he was gone. And then, I was sad he was not there. I knew deep down inside my very young soul that life in that moment had changed for us. Forever.

This blog is young and growing. Not all of the things I write about will be negative or sad. But I do want to give it a linear feel to it, so I began with this early memory of my father. As I think about the stories to come, the emotional tides are refreshing, revealing and giving me a sense that where I am now, the road and memories gathered have really shaped me into the father I was scared I would never be.