Can we forgive our fathers? When I was eleven, my father, who wanted me to be an athlete, poor man, threw a baseball which hit me in the head and when he yelled that I was a sissy for crying and not catching it, I decided never to speak to him again or listen to him. And except for small talk, I never did. He often told me that I had potential, but was not living up to it. And from his point of view, I suspect it was true. I did poorly in school, had no friends, never made it as an athlete, and was a broody, strange child, holed up in my room for years with my Hardy Boy books and tropical fish.
I became aware later in life that my father was a simple and good man who helped many people. He was not sophisticated about children and psychology, so tried to work through problems by bullying and hectoring I came to see that he meant well, that he was just very limited and closed up, which is different than being evil or malevolent. On his deathbed, we had the first honest exchange of either of our lives. I told him I was sorry he did not get the child he wanted, and he shrugged and said he was sorry I didn’t have the father I deserved. It was the only time I ever felt close to him.
A few months ago, I took Maria to see his grave, which I had never seen, in a suburb of Providence. I found the grave, walked up to it, and I said, “I’m sorry, Dad, I forgive you and I love you.” And then I left. I doubt I will ever go back there, no need really. But I’m glad I forgave my Dad. Anger is a poison, I think, a toxin, whether it is in politics, on the news or the Internet. All of the great spiritual people in the world – Jesus, Gandhi, King, Merton, Plato, Aquinas – understood this, and found other ways to live their lives and achieve their goals.
I am sad about it, but do not regret my decision not to listen to my father again. In some ways, it saved my life, and I had the right to protect myself from his view of me. But that is over, and I let go of it. This Thanksgiving Week, I want to give thanks for my Dad. Like most of us, he did the best he could, and meant no harm.
