 on my 3 day home leave, and I've chosen to spend these days with my father who's not only just turned 80, but tomorrow is Father's Day.
I really can't think of anything that I'm more grateful for today, right now, than my father and what has happened between us. If any of you knew me from Jr. High School on through most of my adult life, you knew that my father and I had an all too typical estranged relationship due to the painful wounds of divorce....which occurred when I was in Jr. High. Hurt and bitterness, longing and disappointment, kept us alienated for years. But this story today...is not about that painful chapter. No, this story today is to say that perhaps it's never too late to have the relationship you've longed for, ached for, but for whatever reason was not available.
My dad and I over the past 10 years have grown to be best buddies. You would never know we were ever estranged. And what a fitting thing to do this morning, while drinking my coffee at an official breakfast room table, early this Saturday morning while all others are still sleeping soundly....to seize these moments to reflect on how grateful I am for my father...and for how profoundly grateful I am for how healing can occur...even in the most estranged of relationships. It's Father's Day tomorrow, and I'm so happy and proud to have a father that I can embrace with joy...and that I can say "Happy Father's Day Dad"...and feel warmly, and deeply & sincerely grateful all the way down deep inside. As I write this I'll confess....tears of joy spring forth.
"Tears of Joy"....what a rich experience. You'd think that joy would not produce something that we associate with sadness...but I'm sure all of you reading have had moments that you'd call "tears of joy." A rich, and multiply layered experience....so why would joy produce tears that are about sadness? Well...maybe it's like this..."aaaaa....this is so so nice...I feel so joyful...but it reminds me also that it's not always been this way....and that's very sad." When I embraced the joy just now, of how close my father and I am to each other...I also remember the pain of years past when I longed for this but it was not available. These tears provide for me one more round of healing...and one more moment of gratitude for where we are today.
To each of our credits....we've both worked hard to get here. This change of relational status just did not go "poof" and now everything is so schmaltzy and nice. No, it's come through both intentional efforts on each side, as well as a secondary outcome of our being forced to work together on a common problem.
The common problem? Very long story short...my younger sister, emotionally and physically disabled was thrown into a crisis over 10 years ago when my mother died. She had been cared for by my mother, so when she died there was a family crisis on our hands. This was the "common problem," and working together to handle such a challenging ordeal brought us face to face with working toward a common goal...and this shifted the status of father/son...we were team mates. We each felt supported by each other's efforts, we each validated each other's agony, we each felt gratitude that we were not alone in handling this situation which ended tragically with my sister's overdose back in 2003. This is where things turned a corner for us. Facing tragedy together, with anyone, at least provides an opportunity for something different to occur. But I also know it can wreak havoc on relationships as well...as evidenced by so many couples who split after the death of a child. At least for my father and I...it began a process of healing.
Add to this...that we've each stretched to see things from each other's point of view....getting outside the box of father/son...and seeing each other as simply another human being. We've each apologized for hurtful things in the past...and felt sincere empathy for each other's experience during the estranged years. Somewhere along the way...it occurred to me while I was feeling appreciative for our relations, and for having a warm moment with my "father"....that HE must also be feeling some kind of gratitude for having such a different relationship with his "son." I shared this with him....I could hear his voice change over the phone...we both sat in a bit of silence...such a nice moment. When he recovered his composure, he said with a quiver in his voice, "yes son...."
I feel like I've been given a profound opportunity to do this father/son thing over again. And I say this with a profound awareness that this is usually NOT what happens, and sometimes is even not what is good to "hope" for. I remember so many times...sitting with a client who was trying to come to terms with an estranged family relationship....and that healing only started to occur when they were able to slowly come around to a change of expectations....that they would never ever get what they so hoped for from dad, from mom....that this was a profound loss, that had already occurred, that they would never have what they had already lost. Only then could healing occur...
I didn't skip this step. Before working along side of my father 10 years ago, I had achieved after many challenging years...a sense of letting go of all the prior hopes and expectations. There was a sense of closure for me....which released me from the irrational expectations of getting what I had already lost. This also made something different possible...and I'm grateful beyond words.
I know this is not what usually happens. But I also can't imagine that we can be so unique...I know that almost all of us have estranged family and friend relationships...and that it's deeply wounding. I hope that sharing a bit of my pain, as well as my joy of something new emerging can offer you some hope where it's reasonable to hope...some encouragement to look for new opportunities...as well as some strength and soothing to face the grief for what has already been lost. To grieve is truly to pave the way for new emergence...new life.
So...."Happy Father's Day Dad!" I'm so grateful and happy we've found each other....I love you, I cherish what we have, I love your guest room and bath (LOL), and I want you to know...I'm so grateful to not only be your son....but to also have such a wonderful buddy. Thank you....thank you....Mr. Pantaleo: Thanks …. but no thanks! Keep your condolences!!
On July 17, 2014, Eric Garner died in the Tompkinsville neighborhood of Staten Island, New York, after a police officer put him in an apparent chokehold, a tactic banned by the New York City Police Department (NYPD). Garner was initially approached by Officer Justin Damico on suspicion of selling “loosies”, single cigarettes from packs without tax stamps. After Garner expressed to the police that he was tired of being harassed and that he was not selling cigarettes, officers made the move to arrest Garner.
Officer Daniel Pantaleo, also on scene, put his arms around the much taller Garner’s neck, applying an apparent chokehold shown in a widely viewed video recording of the event. While lying face-down on the sidewalk surrounded by four officers, Garner is heard to repeat numerous times, “I can’t breathe“. Garner was pronounced dead approximately one hour later at the hospital.
After the incident, city medical examiners concluded that Garner was killed by neck compression from the apparent chokehold, along with “the compression of his chest and prone positioning during physical restraint by police”. Contributing factors included bronchial asthma, heart disease, obesity, and hypertensive cardiovascular disease. As a result of Garner’s death, four EMTs and paramedics who responded to the scene were suspended without pay on July 21, 2014; officers Damico and Pantaleo were placed on desk duty, and Pantaleo was stripped of his service gun and badge.
On December 3, 2014, a grand jury decided not to indict officer Pantaleo.
The “Ferguson Case” …. so much more than just a “case”!!
Adam Mordecai wrote the following post in Upworthy. I feel a need to share this and continue to give a voice to that African American (Black) community in this country. I feel a need to add my “white” voice to their concerns … that’s the least that I can do.
I’ve read post after post about the current (and previous – seems like it’s never changed) plight of the black young men in this country. How many have been killed? Most of them unarmed …. I think we will never know.
ProPublica recently did an in-depth analysis and found that black kids between ages 15-19 are 21 times more likely to be shot and killed by cops than white kids of the same age. That’s an insane statistic. That’s per capita, not total. 
Also, in 2010, federal prosecutors took 162,000 cases to a grand jury. You know how many DIDN’T go to trial? Eleven.
Mike Brown’s family will never get a state criminal trial to get justice for their son. And the testimony that denied them that right technically doesn’t make any sense. Seriously, go read it.
Police have a hard job. What they do is something I couldn’t ever do. But you know what they rarely have? Accountability. In this case,