If this next phase of my life is to eventually involve a life partner -- a spiritual-, soul-, and journey-mate -- I need to record some old gunk that surfaced yesterday. If I have told this story before, forgive the repetition, but clearly this hurt has still not gone away.
I had come home from college at either Christmas or Easter of my senior year. ("Home" was our family summer cabin in the Adirondacks, barely winterized.) Mom asked me about some of my friends' plans after graduation, and I reported what I could about teaching jobs, graduate school, even upcoming weddings. Dad said, "I hope you are never planning to get married, because your mother and I will never be able to afford the wedding." At this, Mom turned and left the room. They were in a dire financial situation that I didn't understand, yet I still turned to Dad expecting to see some kind of twinkle in his eye to indicate that this was a self-deprecatory little joke on his part. But there was no sparkle, no smile. Nothing was added along the lines of, "We love you, honey, and hope you'll find a wonderful guy eventually, but as of now, you'll need to elope!" Nope. "Don't get married." That was it. I must have mumbled some sort of reply like, "Uh, OK", and that was that.
But of course, it wasn't. Because in the ensuing 50 years, very few days have gone by without my being reminded -- not so much of how I'd been told not to get married, or how I wasn't worth the money to marry me off, but of the realization that my father was probably 98% incapable of any kind of genuine love toward me or anyone. What continues to shock is his stunning lack of love or caring, his complete unawareness of how a 21-year old young woman (even in the 1970's) might have romantic dreams and hope to have her dad walk her proudly down the aisle. Well into my fifties, when I still didn't fully understand his unfortunate true nature, I still hoped for that triumphal procession. Heck, last night, watching the old "West Wing" episode where President Bartlet walks his daughter down the aisle, I found myself caught up in a weird time warp where it was me in the white dress, and my handsome WASP-y dad walking me down the aisle to "give me away". For a disconcerting few seconds, I was sure that this was somehow still possible.
But of course, it is not. I think Dad "gave me away" within an hour of my birth; having been handed me, he held me awkwardly for a few seconds then handed me back to my mom or a nurse. He showed up as a proud dad on a few occasions -- my high school and college organ recitals, my Smith graduation, and my 50th birthday -- but the big wedding was never to be.
That whole ancient tradition, where women are handed from one "man in charge" to another, is thankfully all but over. We have entered the new paradigm. What I am suddenly appreciating this morning is that perhaps my Dad was my greatest gift in this lifetime, because he was like a bandage being hastily, constantly, and painfully pulled off. Every illusion of the old-fashioned patriarchy -- ouch, ouch, ouch -- year after year. He had just about no capacity to care, to care for, to give, to protect others, to communicate, or to love. (For today, the effect of this on my mom during 48 years of marriage is just too painful to bear.) I guess it is not surprising that I've spent a lifetime trying to keep such heartlessness at arm's length.
So when (yes, when!) -- in this lifetime or the next -- I re-meet the man who has been my partner and equal for lifetimes, it won't be about "falling in love". It won't be about the "big wedding with the white dress". It won't be about "happily ever after".
It will be about him gazing at me and saying, "I've been looking for you! I have finally found you again. You are extraordinary. Your wisdom, intelligence, and creativity are off the charts. Your worth is incalculable. I completely honor every facet of you and your adherence to the values of the Goddess. I am devoted to you for the rest of this lifetime, and forever." I mean, such a declaration will be the starting point. It will then be a long journey for me to grow into feeling as passionately about him as he feels about me, and I hope he will understand. This lifetime almost completely hollowed me out. He will need unbelievable patience as I start to fill in this black hole with no white dress.
