This is about my dad. I've been thinking about my family a lot lately. It's relieving to write down all those feelings... This is a little sad at some point, but look at the big picture. :)I have a good relationship with my dad. it has not been always like that.
At some point I had no respect for him, I was just so upset at him, I was thinking life would be much better without him.
(I know it's awful, but I really thought that).
My dad has a few health problems. The hardest of all is a dysfunction of his nervous system, or something in his brain that gets unbalanced every now and then. It's unclear what it is, some call it generally mental illness, some say maniaco-depression, temporary dementia or schizophrenia. After superficially studying the subject I don't think schizophrenia is the right term for what he has...
The good part is that it's a illness, so it comes and goes. And when it goes my dad is FANTASTIC! :)
When I was a kid he stayed home. My mom was a teacher and she earned pretty well, without working crazy hours.
I had a very happy childhood. When you're a kid everything is normal.
We would go to walks in the woods as a family. And my father would show us wonders like how to sculpt in a stick to get a beautiful walking stick; how to built a cabana, how to lift an old log to find a world of insects, how to ask a tree before you climb in, without messing up the moss for the little elves.. That was really fun.
He was always very original.
One day mom was working later, and we had a pick-nick diner at home! We put the table cloth on the floor and ate sandwiches. :)
At school we had hot lunches in the cafeteria. But sometimes they served beef tongue!! ewwwwww grossssss... So my dad would take me to the pizzeria! :)
I know this is him, not his illness.
Sometimes he would get mad at us for being loud, and chase us.. He was utterly mad. I now know that that was him being sick.
I have no memories before I was 4 years old. But one of my first memories is my mother and him fighting in the car. I was scared, it was dark, we were going to visit my grand father far away in the Alps and I fell asleep in the car. The screaming woke me up, my sister told be to be quiet.
My mother didn't want to let him drive and he was crazy mad.
I don't remember what happened after that.. Until we get to my grand father's house. My father was not here, my mom was resting on a coach with a piece of meat on her face, because she had a black eye. I didn't understand for a very long time.
At some point my dad would leave us for a day or more, and wander around. Until he would be sent to an hospital.
As a kid I loved clinics. Especially the one in Villeneuve. Usually that meant there would not be screams and cries in the house for days or weeks, and we got to visit dad in a beautiful clinic, with a huge park. He was a little weird, like very docile. But we had great walks in the park, with all the trees and insects stuff. And we got cookies for snack. And my father would always hug my mother and they held hands.
Then at some point my father got a great friend, they would visit each other a lot. He lived a few blocks away. They would smoke so much. (Back in the 90's that was just plain normal). It was like having a great uncle. And my father was going to the hospital less often, maybe twice a year.
Then when I became a teenager I learned that my father was not normal. It was not normal to get in mad angers, and to go to the hospital, and to not go to work in the mornings and come back very late in the evening.
At some point in middle school I told some friends about my father being back from the hospital with medecines that make him very calm. And they made fun of me for months. That was probably the worst about the whole thing. This is when I hated him. I was so upset when my mom was crying or when he looked like a human-mop. I thought he had no will to change.
My mother was heroic all along. She knew he was sick, and she was determined to stay with him. I think at some point she should have looked for more separation. But that would have destroyed him I think. I believe my father won over his sickness because we were here to visit, because my mother would forgive him and focus on the happiness we had when he was fine.
Then we moved to the country side. I was already 18 years old. My sister moved in to her boyfriend's house. I understand her. But I'm glad I stayed with my parents. After the move, maybe the calm of our new village, or the great doctors around here, my father got sick only a few times since 2000. Maybe 5 times the first 3 years. And then less and less often. And since I moved to New York he has been home all the time. That was a big concern to me when I decided to move.
When my father has a crisis he has some kind of apprehension against my mother. When I was a kid or a teenager he would get violent, then he would just get paranoiac, he refused to take any medecine from her, or anything at all. He said she was poisoning him. He would also day-dream grandiose events, like he was a samurai, or a double agent for some special forces...
At that point I felt pity for him.
here is my father, in his writer corner.
My father is a poet. For real. :) He published one book. I personally don't like it, but oh well. I'm proud of him for his work, and for raising us. He was on and off but when he was on he was the best dad.
He would let us read harder books. As a kid himself he was not allowed to read everything and he was upset at that..
He is also a very funny person. When he goes on a diet he says :" the doctor told me to have only a soup for dinner" but his soup was full of mayonaise, croutons, bacon and such... Or "the doctor told me to have a yogurt in the evening" and he would eat the yogurt, with much simagres, and then have diner with us.
He was also very fun to hang out with on the market, he would buy 99cts stuff, like cookware, just because the seller was a nice guy starting up his business...
He is very generous. All the time, with anyone. WHen someone visit and likes something he often offers it. Like his lamp, or a book, or a teapot. He just says " I enjoyed it long enough. I'm glad someone else will enjoy it next".
Or he gives us money saying : "You will never be that young again". (that's kind of his motto). Or " you'll take your friend out for a coffee" (Indeed my friend as a teen didn't have money).
He is a very thoughtful person. And I think all in all he was a great father.
Here is
a song that makes me cry every time I listen to it.
I love my father. It took me so long to realize it. But I'm very grateful he was part of my life, and I'm thankful my mother stayed with him.
