I’m feeling really sorry for my father right now.
I can imagine him sitting in his stiff chair, in his stiff little office, cigarette burning away to ash as he ponders where he went wrong. He’s got a little fern on top of a dusty, rusted filing cabinet crumbling to dust, as the only time it was vibrant and full of life was the day it placed there. Papers and files piled on chairs and spare floor space to limit the amount of traffic the office can support.
His door is always open but is heart is closed, its written all over his face.
He has what everyone seems to want.
My uncle who also happens to be my fathers arch-enemy recently turned 60. He had a birthday party. He had all of his three children present along with their partners and all of his grandchildren. I can imagine laughter. I can imagine giggling babies.
I can imagine the pure joy my uncle would have felt at seeing what he has accomplished, seeing what he has achieved in life smiling back at him as he sat peacefully in a chair observing love all around him.
He has a house, a family home.
He has a job, which always came second.
He’s always had time for smiles and family.
I sometimes feel like I have missed out because I never had the chance to get to know him.
He was always the bad guy.
The one who was jealous and spiteful of my father’s money.
But now, I am wondering if that was ever true.
I think perhaps my father was jealous of the family and happiness my uncle had.
Maybe both always wanted what the other had.
I know my own fathers 60th will come and go, no one will know and no one will notice. He won’t have his three children or his grandchildren there. He’ll be in his office as he is now staring at smoldering smokes and dying plants.
Or perhaps he’ll retreat to his property and spend his time watching a sunset as his cattle graze.
Always in solitude.
He hasn’t called me again for three months.
Such a lonely existence for a man with so much love sitting by waiting to be reached out to.
One day hopefully not too late he will come to terms with what is important in life.
And it has nothing to do with money.
I feel sorry for my father as I always have.
I do not feel sorry for myself however.
Because I know whats important.