Erik Proulx never really knew his father. But friends and relatives keep trying to fill in the blanks.
I spent most of my adult life feeling ambivalent about my father. I worked through much of my anger and sadness with early childhood therapists, and my mom was never one to say he was a bad person. Wayne Proulx, she said, was an amazing spirit who happened to have a terrible addiction.
In the space where most people have memories of a deceased parent, I have a void. No smells, no vacations, no favorite chair. It’s just, nothingness. Even though he left when I was two, trying to remember my father is like imagining what the universe must have been like before the Big Bang. I just can’t get my head around it.
Every year or two, the Proulxs have a family reunion. I had no relationship with his side of the family before my father died. And I’ve had a sparse relationship with them since. They are relatives whose names and faces I do not recognize but who claim to know me very well.
They are all very eager to mention how much my father loved me. What a kind and gentle soul he was. How his face lit up when he was playing the Beatles on the guitar. And how he had always planned to get back in touch with me.
They’re good people, they really are. It’s just, I’m a fish out of water at these events. Their lives zigged while mine zagged. For a good twenty years, our only interactions were weddings and funerals—and far too many of the latter. With a polite nod here and a great-to-see-you there, I usually have one eye on the driveway so nobody blocks in my car.
As I was devising my exit strategy from last summer’s cookout, two women pulled their car up just behind mine. I strolled up to the driver’s side of the offending vehicle to tell them I was just about to leave and could they please park elsewhere. But before I could say anything, a rattled-looking woman rolled down her window.
“I thought we were lost, but now I know we’re not. You’re Wayne’s son.”
I knew I looked a lot like my father. But to his two childhood friends in that car, I was his doppleganger. When they stood up to hug me, it was obvious that they weren’t embracing me, but rather the ghost of someone they missed dearly.
My exit was thwarted. But moments later I was thankful, because I heard stories about my father I never knew. Like, how the teenaged Wayne Proulx was regularly beaten to within an inch of his life by my grandfather. Like, how as a young boy he was dangled by his ankles out of a second-story window, screaming and begging not to be dropped. Like, what a great friend he was to both of them while they were growing up.
At last, I didn’t feel a void. There was no longer nothingness. The void was filled with empathy. With understanding. And for the first time, with love.
♦♦♦
I have two young children now, and can picture my father through their eyes. I see how malleable and scared and dependent they are on me. To picture my father as a frightened, vulnerable, abused child has given me a whole new perspective on why he wasn’t there. How he couldn’t be there.
It made me want to give a him hug the same way I do to my son when he wakes up terrified that there’s a monster under his bed. Only, my father’s monster was real. And because there was no one there to protect him, he used heroin and alcohol to run away from it.
So, Dad, know that I am not angry. Know that I got the best parts of you. Know that I am a good friend and a kind soul and that I even play a little guitar. Know that I am protecting my children the way someone should have protected you. And know that I am teaching them the things you taught me, even if you couldn’t be there to teach them.
Read more on Father’s Day on The Good Life.
Photo courtesy of the author
Thank you for a moving, well-written piece.
Wow. That was incredibly poignant and beautifully conveyed. Just a great piece of writing. Thank you.
Just read my life story! I now have 2 grown sons, the oldest has issues with us – I led by example –Do as I say, not as I do which left a lot of scars. Our youngest who is 11 years his junior came at a more mature time in my life and therefore had a lot more love poured in. Unforgiveness is a cancer that makes living life in reverse a tragedy. I now refer to it as Environmental Poisoning as we look at Societies attrocities perpetrated on each other. Thanks for your soul searching and I known… Read more »
What a lovely piece on your father. I’ve lost my dad as well….and know how hard it is to fill in those blanks. Even though I was older when he passed away, I now wish I could ask him for advice on raising my two children. He would have been a great grandpa — and that’s what I miss now, perhaps more than anything.
Glad to be following your work.
— Allison
http://www.allisongilbert.com
Thank you for all your touching replies everybody.
“Dad, know that I got the best parts of you.” That was the line that made me cry.
Gorgeous. Heroic. Inspiring and terrifying and glorious.
Imperfect lives, perfectly written.
Eric, very touching story. Thank you for sharing your life and experiences with us. It’s posts like these that help remind us all we’re human and choosing empathy is often times the best choice.
Erik that was a wonderful story. I too cried as I read it. Your dad was a great friend to me as well as a cousin. I hope you continue to be with all of us when the chance arises, that way we can all get to know each other a little better. Love Angel
Carrie and Gisela, thank you for the kind words.
Auntie Laurie, I’m sorry the story was so heartbreaking. Even though my father wasn’t around, he taught me so much. I’m learning to celebrate that, get closer to our family, and be a great dad all at once. We’ll get there!
“Dad … know that I am teaching them the things you taught me, even if you couldn’t be there to teach them.”
Erik, what a forgiving –– and giving–– soul you are. Your kids are so fortunate to have you to protect and guide them. And love them. I hope in their eyes whatever healing you may still have to do gets healed.
Thanks so much for sharing such a moving tale. Of fatherhood and forgiveness and understanding.
Wow, this is a great story as in “a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.” Especially loved this line and the transition that followed it: “With a polite nod here and a great-to-see-you there, I usually have one eye on the driveway so nobody blocks in my car.” I’m fortunate enough to have grown up with my father and just celebrated mom and dad’s 60th anniversary. But I could have been your dad. I can’t blame any real or imaginary monsters. Sex, drugs, and rock&roll were my obstacles to the purpose-driven life, disguised as fun-filled pitstops… Read more »
Your story broke my heart and made me cry
Not only for you, but for 2 lost brothers who
never got to enjoy the “good” in their lives
I don’t know WHY I didn’t see any of these
horrific things (maybe because I came along
so late) or because I have blocked them out?
But you are and always will be a big part of
what is left to this family. I wish you didn’t feel
like a stranger to us. All I can say is that I’ve
loved you forever!
Oh Erik…you just made me cry. I can tell you are a wonderful father. And great story, fantastic writing!