The Eldest Child - Session 4

(Beep. Music fades in)

This may go without saying, but I didn’t know your father well. I have seen glimpses, however. I see glimpses of him in his own right and glimpses of him in you and your siblings. That has told me a lot. To tell you the truth, I would like to think that it has told me everything that matters about him. The good things, as it were. Not the moments colored by frustrations or negative emotions. I mean, yes, that’s part of who someone is too, but I don’t think that’s the most important part. I don’t think that’s the part that should be prioritized when we tell someone’s story. Assuming… Well, assuming a lot of things. So maybe I shouldn’t say that at all. Maybe… (sigh).

You know what I mean, though, right? You know how death changes your perspective on things. It shows you what matters and what doesn’t. It buffs out the smaller imperfections. And by virtue of that, you can see what counts as a smaller imperfection. It’s not a perfect system by any means, but it’s there. It’s there, and it offers some small bit of help in making sense of things, of people.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

There’s a lot about your father that’s worth admiring. And I could go on and on about that, but it wouldn’t be so helpful right now. You know what made him great. You are confident in your assessments. Well, now you are. And while it is comforting to have that part of your grief validated, we don’t really need to have that conversation. Not when we could actually get to the point. 

And I promise, in some way there is one. Maybe it isn’t the one you were expecting. And maybe it isn’t the one that I indirectly or directly promised. But there is a point.

I should tell you what it is. You won’t be able to rest until I do. I can tell that it’s in your nature to be restless. But it’s not a sense of discontentment that fuels this. Rather, it’s a sense of apprehension if not fear. You recognize the world around you is constantly changing, and you feel the need to change with it, to meet it. You come to learn that stagnation can bring destruction. Or that’s what you fear is true I won’t call it gifted child syndrome, though that might feel accurate. But you were the best at everything when you were a child. Typical first born raising the bar far too high. You were incredibly smart, athletic, handsome, etc etc. But you knew that the titles that came with being those things were fleeting ones. Not quite escaping, but they could be taken from you. Won by another. It was always a possibility. And you were afraid of that possibility. Because you were afraid of what you would be left with if or when they should happen. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Quite frankly, old habits die hard. I know that better than anyone. So you don’t need to prove that to me. You don’t need to defend yourself to me. And I hope you’ll remember that. I hope you will remember this bit of generosity that I’m offering. Even if you don’t think it is much. Please know that it’s was the best I could do. And maybe it is the thought that counts. Or at least that particular type of thoughts. Of limitations and expectations and how they don’t always line up.

But I’ve lost the point again, haven’t I? For once, you did not notice. Because it turns out we can conquer the worst of ourselves. It isn’t easy, but you in particular don’t need things to be easy. Some people thrive when things are difficult. That’s worth admiring about you. I mean, I certainly can’t say the same about me. So there’s that.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Now, you can correct me if I’m mistaken, but I’m not, your father was a strong man, was he not? Not physically strong, so I’ve heard, but there was something deceptive about that. He looked like he had physical strength, but you know it was something he struggled to muster. In all actuality, he had a very different sort of strength about him, and it helped fuel the illusion of physical strength, yes. Is the word confidence? It might be. I actually struggle with words sometimes. Blame the exhaustion. Blame my self-loathing. Blame is easy, right? And it’s usually better than the alternative. 

But part of this strength… Well, There was one particular manifestation of it that I want to mention. Your father knew what storms were worth enduring. Do you remember that? Do you remember all of those times you would go to him with a problem and to your frustration he told you said problem simply did not matter. And time would prove him right, but you could never see it at the time. 

Didn’t you have a fight with your partner once that was just like that? You can’t even remember what that fight was over, can you, but it was right before the pregnancy. And that made it worse. Because why have a child with someone you no longer get along with? Completely valid question, particularly in the child’s mind. But that wasn’t where this was going. I mean to say that it wasn’t going to be the fight that broke the two of you up. He knew the difference. You didn’t. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I’ve been bed-bound these past few weeks if I’m to be completely honest. Chicago’s weather instability is annoying to some, but there are those of us that honestly suffer with it. No doctor has been able to tell me why my lungs turn on me the way that they do when these fake springs come. It’s nothing fatal though. Or so they think. But this year was the worst one I’ve ever had, and sure, there were other potential reasons for it. Other factors that I need to take under consideration. But all the same, it’s been hard.

No, it’s not the oxygen or lack there of that’s making me more… indirect than usual. Though I am not going to say it helps. But that’s not the main thing to worry about. My mind wanders when I’m in bed. What can it do? It certainly doesn’t want to sleep. Sleep is a loaded subject for me. Sleep doesn’t feel as safe as it should. But in the course of lying in bed I realized that if I really wanted to help you, I would need to give you that ability, the ability to see what is worth enduring, what is worth conquering, and what is simply nothing. I would need to give everyone that ability if I honestly wanted to make a difference. And I can’t do that. I can’t do it for myself, so how am I supposed to do it for anyone else?

In the same sort of way that I can’t make you believe you’re going to be a good father. Realli, it’s all the same kind of problem. I do earnestly believe you will be an amazing father, and it’s not just because I see your father in you. That would not be a fair metric of anything. It’s that I see the way you watch over and guide your siblings now. It’s in the way you care for them, worry that you aren’t enough for them or enough for your child. It’s… (sigh)

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

It’s easier to explain what makes someone a bad parent than a good one. It’s easier to point out someone’s failings than what it is they’re doing right. And it makes sense. It shouldn’t but it does. It’s inconvenient but it’s true. I can… Or someone better than me could articulate why it is they feel on edge, what it was that set them off, why it is they’ve started crying, why the tears just can’t seem to stop. They know how their parents failed them.

And I could go on and on, and maybe that’s what you expect me to do. You expect me to list out every little thing a parent could do to harm their child, but surprisingly, I don’t think I need to. I think a great deal of it can be summed up fairly easily. It’s about selfishness. It’s about the hyperfocus on one’s self and one’s perceived needs. Not that those things aren’t important. They are, but… But when you deprive your child the right to grieve her father simply because your grief is uncomfortable to bear, you’ve done something wrong. You’ve done something very wrong, and your child will know it for the rest of her life. Your child will pay that price in ways she can’t even imagine until it happens. My mother did something wrong. You won’t do that. You couldn’t imagine doing that. 

Because there’s this thing in some people. There’s a limit, an internal break that some people have and some people don’t. I don’t think that it’s something you’re born with. It has to be so much more complicated than that. And I can’t be bothered to think about that now. Regardless of what it is, you don’t have that problem. You have limits. You have the ability to love someone in a way that I don’t know if I’ve ever known. Congratulations for that. I mean it. Even if I don’t sound like I do, I’m just upset about something else.

(Music fades out. Beep)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?