I have to start this by saying that I love my family. When the day comes and I am lying on my death bed, they will be the ones that surround me. They are the ones that loved me when it seemed like no one else did. Family goes far beyond blood, but for this post I will be talking about my immediate family.
I am one of three, I have a twin brother and an older sister. We are all unique and "special in our own ways, we are also the same in many ways (a fact that is more painful than we would like to admit.) I would like to think that what separates us, also brings us together. I am also lucky enough to come from a family with two parents. I can not tell you how much respect I have for all the parents out there that are doing it on their own. It takes work to raise a family, and i have only begun to realize what it takes to rear three children.
Six years ago, I was blessed with a son, I was 22 and terrified. Me and his mother are not, nor have we ever been, together, but my son is well mannered, is kind hearted, and respectful. I can not take any credit for this, she deserves it all. I have dropped the ball on more than one occasion with him, but i have learned and have gotten better... I would like to think. My only hope for him is that he will turn out better than me, and he is well on his way.
Looking back, especially to the earlier years, I worshiped my parents, even to this day they are the ones I turn to for advice and guidance. They are by no means perfect, but that is part of being human. I think that we have moved from the parent/child relationship, into a relationship that looks more like a friendship. (Granted it is hard to ground a 28 year old, or to tell him that he has a bed time and needs to turn off the cartoons.)
I say all of this because shit is about to get real... The story that I am about to tell was and still is one of the defining moments of my young life. It shifted where i was headed and changed everything I thought I knew, it almost destroyed our young family and after shocks can still be felt to this day, it wasn't until much that I was able to forgive, however i will never be able to forget.
Life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. When i was 4 we moved from the cozy little town in northwest Iowa to a town in South Dakota. My dad was a nurse and we moved so he could be closer to work. My mom had been a stay at home mom, tending to her young flock, when we moved she decided to go back to school at the age of 43 years young. She started college the day me and my brother started kindergarten. For me life was care free. Me and my brother rode our bikes all over that town, made new friends, and played all day long. My dad sometimes worked the night shift, so when we were not in school, we were often ushered outside so he could sleep. My parents didn't believe in cable or video games so we spent our days climbing trees, or going to the swimming pool, these truly where the best days of my life. So naive and innocent. Even back then my faith was strong. I can remember sitting in the sun making up songs, songs that praised God. I truly had faith like a child. Little did i know my whole world was going to come crashing down around me.
God has always been and will always be important to my family. My dad is one of the most intelligent men I have ever met He has more degrees than i can count, one of them being a masters in religious education. He is logical, almost to a fault and chooses his words carefully. If you combine these things he can seem distant, but the man has a heart of gold. He has a hard time relating to people, or maybe it is the other way around, but it is hard for him to make friends, so the ones he has he cherishes.
We would always eat at the dinner table, the meal was always proceeded by a prayer and a Bible story. It was never forced on us and always made clear that there are no grandchildren in heaven, the choice was ours to make.
My mom is truly one of my best friends. The women has wisdom and such a capacity for compassion and understanding, I am often left speechless. She is also very intelligent, she went on to graduate from college with the highest honors possible and a 4.0 GPA. This all leads me to question... what the fuck happened with me, I had such potential.
Back to the story... my dad was an R.N. at a hospital not to far from where we lived. He worked with a man named David. David was his best friend. David also had a young family. Our family would baby sit for his and vice versa, we went to church with them, they were our family in this particular town. I loved David, and always looked forward to going to his house.
Then one night all of that changed. We had been living in our home for about two years, we were settled. I remember, we were all sitting in the basement watching tv and the phone rang. It was getting kind of late (for a six year old) but I paid it no mind, My mom was gone so my dad answered, i don't remember the show we were watching but i do remember what happened next. My dad came out, he looked like he was in shock. He took us back into the laundry room and set me and my brother on the deep freeze, my sister close behind.
He was holding back tears as he told us that we would not be seeing David anymore. Both me and my brother asked why. How do you tell a six year old one of their idols is dead, while dealing with the loss of a best friend. I don't clearly remember much after that. I know that there was a lot of crying on my part, and my brothers. I didn't understand suicide at the time. To be honest I still don't...
I would later find out the details. Apparently my dad and David had gotten into an argument weeks earlier, the details are not important, but how David handled that argument and other conflicts in his life have left a lasting impression, specifically on my Father.
You see David was also an R.N., which meant that he had keys to the narcotics cabinet, he opened that cabinet and took a vile of morphine out, left work, drove out into the country, climbed a tree and pumped 100 milligrams into his veins. He then fell from the tree, smashing his face to pieces on a log below.
In the note that he so considerably left he blamed two people, his mother, and my father...
I know that my world was shattered the second the I found out, I can only imagine what it did to my dad. Things changed after that. We, of course, were not invited to the funeral. I cant tell you how long it took for us as a family to laugh again. My dad sank farther into himself. The wound was so deep and the fear of losing someone else that he cared about became almost unbearable. He lashed out, not knowing how to deal with the feelings of anger, remorse, confusion, and regret.
Trying to protect us from himself he pushed us away, and I cant say that I blame him. Our whole paradigm shifted. My faith in humanity had been destroyed, and so had my brothers, we made a pact that we would be the only family we would ever need, not knowing how much pain that would cause in the future to the rest of our family. My mom became the care taker, she often tells me that for months after she would find me hiding and crying, i have blocked these memories, maybe for better, maybe for worse. I don't miss them.
A family that went to church religiously, stopped going altogether. I stopped making up songs. All I wanted was the approval of my father, but it was something that he was unable to give. Through the years the tension grew. I started to push back against everything i was taught to believe. I was mad for years, but I learned to hide it, determined to never feel that kind of rejection again. Covering the pain any way I could. Embracing the darkest parts of me i could find. The way i saw it, if I was covered in darkness, no one would see the scars of my past.
By the time i was fifteen, I was consumed with hatred and self pity. My favorite quote was " if our fathers are our models for God, what does that tell you about God." I took it to heart and started lashing out at the people that were lost in the same pain. I told my parents I hated everything they stood for and that there was no God. This behavior lasted well into my twenties.
Despite what I said, I could always feel God in the back round, telling me it was ok to be mad at him, He could take it, and he constantly reminded me of the songs I used to sing for him. I would try and silence him with drugs, and when that didnt work I would hit the bottle and if he was being really loud, I would mix the two. I was running a losing race. A fact that only one of us was aware of, and it was not me.
By the time i hit 24 I was mentally exhausted, and couldn't hold onto the hate anymore, i started trying to find the answers i claimed to be looking for, and the answer was my family. I put every one of them through some shit, and through it all, my brother, my sister, my mom, and my dad have all been there for me, even when i was being a spoiled little turd, and for that I can not thank them enough. They are the ones that call me out on my bullshit, and cheer for my success. I owe them all a debt that I know that I cant repay, but that is what family is all about. I am bound to them, and they to me, THEY are the place where I am free to just be me.
-Micah
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