Thursday, March 27, 2014

My dad, Ron Lyons.

It has been so long since I have wrote anything on here. 

Something I experienced and came witness to recently, was while I was watching the movie, "Ordinary People."  I had a time of great healing and realization. The movie is about a husband and wife and their son, of whom the eldest son and brother, dies in a boating accident.  The younger brother was holding his brothers hand across the upturned boat while the waves were crashing and the wind and the rain were blowing.  The older brother grew tired and let go and drowned.
The younger brother in the movie, struggles with PTSD and attempts suicide but is unsuccessful.  The mom resents her younger teenage son for living when the eldest died. And the dad, feels caught in the middle of the two, overwhelmed with guilt on not being able to solve either problems.
The younger brother begins to see a therapist and begins to deal with his pain in the loss of his brother. Towards the end of the movie, the brother finds out that his friend whom me met in the hospital has just commit suicide.  The brother takes off down the street in the middle of the night, finds a payphone and call his therapist and says that he needs to speak to him now.
The boy and therapist enters the office while the boy hysterically yells about his friend and that it reminds him of his brother.  The therapist pushes him a bit farther with questions about whose fault it was.  The boy then redirects his anger towards the therapist as if her were the brother and says "you should've held on! why did you let go?!"  The therapist answers back, "because I got tired."
The boy begins to break down in tears, crying "I'm so sorry, its all my fault."
The therapist asks, "what did you do wrong?"
The boy answers, still crying hysterically, "I don't know.."
The therapist replies, "Yes you do. You held on."

While watching this movie in my class at school, I had to leave the room.  I went to the bathroom and I just cried.  I let myself cry into my hands as I remembered my fathers death.  I felt it was all my fault that I couldn't save him.  I tried so hard to make him happy and to help as best I could.  My dad didn't really have any friends and couldn't work because he was so sick for so long.  I wanted to be the one who could make him happy.  I hated to see him suffer so much and feel so alone.  He wanted me to come live with him and be his caretaker.  He would call me up in the middle of the night when I was 12 years old, saying he needed to go to the hospital.  He would always tell me about how he wanted to buy some property in Eastern Washington and have chickens and ducks and cows and to live off the land and have no one bother him except his girls.  My sister and I.  We were his world.
I loved my dad so much but I couldn't go with him to his own healing.  His own departure. I felt so much guilt for wanting to enjoy my life while he sufferred alone for so long.  That he loved me so much and I couldn't return it the way he wanted.  I have so much guilt.  I just cried and cried.  I'm crying now as I type this.
My dad loved me so much.  This I must remember.  It's not my fault that he couldn't get better.
I will choose to focus on the good memories about my dad. I loved my dad so much for who he used to be before he got sick. 

I think that is who he would want me to remember:

When we were kids, my dad would pick us up in his truck and drive us back to his house and he would say, "Whose daddy's girls"
"We are!", we would answer back.
My dad would cook us dinner every night that we were there, and a lot of the time it would be trout or salmon; deer or rabbit that he had killed while he was out hunting or fishing.  He would take us to the 7Eleven every before or after dinner to pick out an ice cream bar to eat for dessert.
I remember celebrating aChristmas visit with him and him surprising us with each a giant pillow to sit on in front of the TV, as to watch TV with him.
I remember in the summer him taking us down to the lake to swim and play on the beach and coming back to the house and playing wiffle ball with a plastic bat and baseball in the driveway.

I have a lot of good childhood memories of my dad and how much he wanted to be a good father.  He knew that he made a lot of mistakes while he was with my mom, and while growing up.  But he wanted to fix it with us.  He loved us more than anything.  And he told us that.

My dad was probably one of the funniest people you would meet. He did have a good heart and wanted to help people.  He knew what it was like to struggle and accepted his wrongs. My dad had a good heart.  And I love him for who he was and how much he loved me.

When I think of that child I used to be in relation to my dad.  Carefree and having fun, that is who I want to be. I have been living life in such a way that I am still trying to save my dad through other people.  And I hear in my mind, "You have to let him go Holli."
I chose not to go with my dad emotionally when he started to go down hill.  When he began drinking more and wanting more from me.  I chose not to follow him.  And that is the guilt that I have lived with but that is not my fault.  I did nothing wrong.  "You held on."
I held onto my own life and well-being instead of being sucked down with him. 

The fun loving dad that always wanted me to be happy and to laugh with him.  That was the dad that I loved and who he truly wanted to be.
I'll always love you dad.  I miss you.


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