The Advice
The long drives home from lands far, far away are always interesting. With all of that time to sit and drive, my mind can't help but wander, and wonder. On a recent trip back from Atlantic City (3-4hrs), I began to talk to Kelly about her family.
The discussion began when she mentioned that her Aunt has a house nearby, and she may be thinking about selling it in the next couple of years. Since the two of us will be and are sort of in the market to buy, I began to inquire a bit more about the house. Kelly mentioned the house used to belong to her Grandparents, and they had passed away years back. At this point in the conversation I chose to switch subjects and ask her some questions about her grandparents. One side of my brain wanted to know more about them, since I had clearly never met them nor heard many stories of them. The other side of my brain wanted to hear Kelly speak of them solely for sake of discussing mortality.
Since I was born, nobody in my family has passed away (except my Great Grandmother when I was 5 or 6). I have had some losses in my life, friends, teachers and pets - but never someone that I had developed a mature relationship with. Being 23 years old, I am concerned on how I will take this devastation. I have to keep reminding myself of the inevitability of the whole matter, but it hasn't made this any easier on me.
So Kelly began telling me stories of her grandparents and how they passed. She seemed very composed the entire time and I was impressed by this. I'm not sure how I'll react in the same situation but I hope I can be strong like her, even if it is 10 or more years after the case. As she finished up her words, I began to ponder the mortality of my own grandparents. Now I have two sets of grandparents like most people, however, one set has been out of touch since I was 16 years old, that's 7 years. A couple years ago I was at my other Grandparents (father's parents) and my Nanna told me that my Grandmother had passed away on the operating table.
So many thoughts ran through my head at the time, but sadly, and embarrassingly, I didn't cry. It's not that I didn't feel emotion, it's that I couldn't believe it. How could I have not heard of this? My Nanna began to fill me in on the details and informed me that she heard from my brother, Peter. I immediately picked up the phone and called my brother to get the details. After speaking with him for two minutes he had informed me that his friend's grandmother had passed, not ours. At that moment, a wave of refreshment had washed over my like a huge, cold, oceanic wave.
But the wave was so big that it took me down into it's depths and began to cycle me around in it's powerful grip. My body crashed viciously against the rocky sand below, with the blades of beach glass cutting deep into my flesh. I was dragged across the bottom of the ocean and spat out on the other side, in a foreign world. It was at this time that I began to seriously ponder mortality, my own and my family's.
To get back to the car ride... After Kelly had finished speaking, I began to think about my grandparents (mother's parents). I wanted to know how they were doing but was so hesitant to call. I had tried to reconnect with an Uncle just recently and was hit with a roadblock as he told me I "need to pan out my issues with my mother" as he didn't want to get involved. I was so upset by this that I completely gave up and continued to live my own life.
But this time, I was concerned. I was concerned that my mother's family would believe I chose to remove myself from their lives and I chose to stay out of touch all these years. I wanted them to know, more for myself than anyone, that I thought about them daily, and that I cared about them always. I don't call my grandparents out of spite for my mother, I simply do not call them because I don't know what to say. For 7 years they have heard a one-sided story that is sure to be exaggerated and devastating. At this point, I am done proving myself, I am done trying to apologize for my mistakes as a child. I am done.
I don't want to call my mother and only speak about how terrible of a person I was, and probably still am. I don't want to call my mother and listen to hear speak of how I ruined her life and her family's life. This is why I don't call my mother; she is stubborn and narrow minded and refuses to consider the possibility that she had anything to do with her own downfall.
The biggest problem is, she refuses to admit that her new husband is doing anything wrong by smoking marijuana. Now I'm not even going to get into this, because my father smokes marijuana openly, but I doubt he'd ever store it in a magazine rack on the floor where a baby is learning to crawl and walk.
But beyond that, beyond my side of the story - I simply do not want to prove myself to her any longer. And if she requires this from me, then I need her to know, and her family to know, that it is her decision and her ultimate choice to keep me removed from her life and her family. But what do I know right? I'm just a stubborn boy my self and I've also only told and experienced one side of the story.
So I called my Dad for advice, for the first time in my life, I had a father who I could call when I needed some help - and it felt great!
Just as a side note, I wasn't able to complete my conversation with my Dad on my way home, so we finished it the next evening - but now we return to the main event.
My father, in my eyes, is a lot like me. He is incredibly intelligent, relaxed, calm, loving, adventurous and many other things. Above all of those things, he is compassionate and good willed. My father has done some terrible things in his life, and not once has he ever pretended those things didn't happen. He knows he spent nights in jail, he knows that he was overly aggressive in punishing his children and he knows that he has done drugs. What many people don't understand about this man, or choose not to understand, is that while he has done bad things, he has learned from them and become a better man from them.
Now I would never make the comparison that my father is in any way a holy man or as powerful a man in history as Siddharta Gautama. That would be nothing short of blasphemous. However, I cannot help but use the lessons from Siddharta in my own life, and I believe this is what I should be doing anyways. But if a man as great as Siddharta can make mistakes in his life, and still be loved and accepted, then why can't anyone?
Anyways, back to the story. I spoke with my father and he handed out some pretty simple advice, but I didn't expect to hear this from him.
Now I have always thought that a good trait in a man is modesty, and I still believe this. My father is too intelligent to tell me something like this and to expect me to take it literally, so I began to dissect his message, his advice.
My father would never tell me to set aside modesty and become an arrogant and pompous ass. I think what he wanted me to hear, what he really meant to say - was be proud. Pride may be perceived as one of the Seven Deadly Sins - but only when indulged. There is nothing wrong with waking up in the morning, looking around at the home you've built (not literally of course) and smile to yourself. There is nothing wrong with counting your blessings once, twice, three times.
More important than the advice he just gave me was the message he left me with before he got off the phone. He told me to embrace fear and use that fear as motivation. Don't be afraid of what other's may say, just prepare yourself for what they may say and always remember, never back down from what you truly believe. If I truly believe that I am right in this situation, then I must stand up, as a man, and defend myself. There is no honor in folding over for everyone and always agreeing.
I am where I am today, because of people like my father and the advice they have shared with me. It has never been difficult for me to ask for help and I believe that this is a trait I thank God for every day.
The discussion began when she mentioned that her Aunt has a house nearby, and she may be thinking about selling it in the next couple of years. Since the two of us will be and are sort of in the market to buy, I began to inquire a bit more about the house. Kelly mentioned the house used to belong to her Grandparents, and they had passed away years back. At this point in the conversation I chose to switch subjects and ask her some questions about her grandparents. One side of my brain wanted to know more about them, since I had clearly never met them nor heard many stories of them. The other side of my brain wanted to hear Kelly speak of them solely for sake of discussing mortality.
Since I was born, nobody in my family has passed away (except my Great Grandmother when I was 5 or 6). I have had some losses in my life, friends, teachers and pets - but never someone that I had developed a mature relationship with. Being 23 years old, I am concerned on how I will take this devastation. I have to keep reminding myself of the inevitability of the whole matter, but it hasn't made this any easier on me.
So Kelly began telling me stories of her grandparents and how they passed. She seemed very composed the entire time and I was impressed by this. I'm not sure how I'll react in the same situation but I hope I can be strong like her, even if it is 10 or more years after the case. As she finished up her words, I began to ponder the mortality of my own grandparents. Now I have two sets of grandparents like most people, however, one set has been out of touch since I was 16 years old, that's 7 years. A couple years ago I was at my other Grandparents (father's parents) and my Nanna told me that my Grandmother had passed away on the operating table.
So many thoughts ran through my head at the time, but sadly, and embarrassingly, I didn't cry. It's not that I didn't feel emotion, it's that I couldn't believe it. How could I have not heard of this? My Nanna began to fill me in on the details and informed me that she heard from my brother, Peter. I immediately picked up the phone and called my brother to get the details. After speaking with him for two minutes he had informed me that his friend's grandmother had passed, not ours. At that moment, a wave of refreshment had washed over my like a huge, cold, oceanic wave.
But the wave was so big that it took me down into it's depths and began to cycle me around in it's powerful grip. My body crashed viciously against the rocky sand below, with the blades of beach glass cutting deep into my flesh. I was dragged across the bottom of the ocean and spat out on the other side, in a foreign world. It was at this time that I began to seriously ponder mortality, my own and my family's.
To get back to the car ride... After Kelly had finished speaking, I began to think about my grandparents (mother's parents). I wanted to know how they were doing but was so hesitant to call. I had tried to reconnect with an Uncle just recently and was hit with a roadblock as he told me I "need to pan out my issues with my mother" as he didn't want to get involved. I was so upset by this that I completely gave up and continued to live my own life.
But this time, I was concerned. I was concerned that my mother's family would believe I chose to remove myself from their lives and I chose to stay out of touch all these years. I wanted them to know, more for myself than anyone, that I thought about them daily, and that I cared about them always. I don't call my grandparents out of spite for my mother, I simply do not call them because I don't know what to say. For 7 years they have heard a one-sided story that is sure to be exaggerated and devastating. At this point, I am done proving myself, I am done trying to apologize for my mistakes as a child. I am done.
I don't want to call my mother and only speak about how terrible of a person I was, and probably still am. I don't want to call my mother and listen to hear speak of how I ruined her life and her family's life. This is why I don't call my mother; she is stubborn and narrow minded and refuses to consider the possibility that she had anything to do with her own downfall.
The biggest problem is, she refuses to admit that her new husband is doing anything wrong by smoking marijuana. Now I'm not even going to get into this, because my father smokes marijuana openly, but I doubt he'd ever store it in a magazine rack on the floor where a baby is learning to crawl and walk.
But beyond that, beyond my side of the story - I simply do not want to prove myself to her any longer. And if she requires this from me, then I need her to know, and her family to know, that it is her decision and her ultimate choice to keep me removed from her life and her family. But what do I know right? I'm just a stubborn boy my self and I've also only told and experienced one side of the story.
So I called my Dad for advice, for the first time in my life, I had a father who I could call when I needed some help - and it felt great!
Just as a side note, I wasn't able to complete my conversation with my Dad on my way home, so we finished it the next evening - but now we return to the main event.
My father, in my eyes, is a lot like me. He is incredibly intelligent, relaxed, calm, loving, adventurous and many other things. Above all of those things, he is compassionate and good willed. My father has done some terrible things in his life, and not once has he ever pretended those things didn't happen. He knows he spent nights in jail, he knows that he was overly aggressive in punishing his children and he knows that he has done drugs. What many people don't understand about this man, or choose not to understand, is that while he has done bad things, he has learned from them and become a better man from them.
Now I would never make the comparison that my father is in any way a holy man or as powerful a man in history as Siddharta Gautama. That would be nothing short of blasphemous. However, I cannot help but use the lessons from Siddharta in my own life, and I believe this is what I should be doing anyways. But if a man as great as Siddharta can make mistakes in his life, and still be loved and accepted, then why can't anyone?
Anyways, back to the story. I spoke with my father and he handed out some pretty simple advice, but I didn't expect to hear this from him.
"You've earned your position right now David. You are where you are because you worked hard and achieved your goals. Stop being modest all of the time and try being arrogant once in a while. I'm not telling you to insult others or put down those who may not be where you are, but don't be afraid to be proud of what you've done. There is no shame in being proud of yourself."
Now I have always thought that a good trait in a man is modesty, and I still believe this. My father is too intelligent to tell me something like this and to expect me to take it literally, so I began to dissect his message, his advice.
My father would never tell me to set aside modesty and become an arrogant and pompous ass. I think what he wanted me to hear, what he really meant to say - was be proud. Pride may be perceived as one of the Seven Deadly Sins - but only when indulged. There is nothing wrong with waking up in the morning, looking around at the home you've built (not literally of course) and smile to yourself. There is nothing wrong with counting your blessings once, twice, three times.
More important than the advice he just gave me was the message he left me with before he got off the phone. He told me to embrace fear and use that fear as motivation. Don't be afraid of what other's may say, just prepare yourself for what they may say and always remember, never back down from what you truly believe. If I truly believe that I am right in this situation, then I must stand up, as a man, and defend myself. There is no honor in folding over for everyone and always agreeing.
I am where I am today, because of people like my father and the advice they have shared with me. It has never been difficult for me to ask for help and I believe that this is a trait I thank God for every day.
Labels: Family, life, mortality
posted by David Malloy @ 7:55 AM
2 Comments:
Fucking awesome. You are your father's son. :) I'm glad I had a chance to meet you and know you and that we are friends. You definitely should be proud of yourself and your achievements. From what I know about you, you are a great person and all around awesome. And freakin' great entry!!
:-)
You are always kind Preeti! Thank you again for allowing me to learn from you and to learn about you. You're an interesting character you know?!
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