This post is written for Brother Jon‘s Funny Dad Friday installments.
My dad was born into a Catholic family: he was the first child and had ten siblings—all girls. At the age of 11, he was taken away from his school desk and was presented with his first job—eleven mouths to feed don’t come cheap, choices were made, and education was not one them. My father learned how to mop a floor, dust shelves, and fend off his boss’s sexual advances. When my father grew facial hair, he met my mother, who worked as the elevator operator in a department store. It was love, and my siblings and I were the fruits of that love. Fatherhood did not come easy for my dad, and we were often left to rot.
My dad was not a bad father—my dad wasn’t there much. He worked hard as a building janitor, he provided a roof over our head, and canned peas with a side of fake mashed potatoes on our plates. Smiling was not something my father did well; he did sadness better. When my father wasn’t slowly dying from smoking two packs of cigarettes a day, he would disappear in his studio to be with his true love: Art. I can’t say I remember my father smiling even when he was bending scrap metal, or painting his soul on a blank canvas, but in these late and solitary hours where he was alone with Art, my dad was creating the life he longed for, and those were tears of joy.
You are missed, and loved, and I wish I could write more about you.
Portrait of my dad, by an 8-year old me.
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I love that portrait. It speaks to me. One of these days you and I are going to have a chat about such things.
Posted by Michelle Gillies | November 9, 2012, 14:00Michelle,
I’m looking forward to it.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 16:43This is a beautiful piece of writing, not sugar coated, direct… Although it wasn’t full of emotive adjectives it really moved me. My Mum and Dad are subjects I find very difficult to write about, although your piece has made me consider trying to make a start… Thank you for sharing this… x
Posted by greeneyedwreck | November 9, 2012, 14:05Green Eyed Wreck,
When I was younger, I enjoyed writers who could convey emotions without using emotive adjectives, like Camus and Peter Handke. I found that being able to suggest a mood with no adjectives was a real skill. This was a nice compliment of you. Thank you.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 16:42Ah, Camus… I really enjoyed studying his books at college… Thank you for mentioning him, he will be added to my list of books to buy… xx
Posted by greeneyedwreck | November 9, 2012, 17:32A great testimonial. Thank you for posting this.
Posted by braintomahawk | November 9, 2012, 15:21BT,
Thank you for reading it, my friend.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 16:39Who would ever, ever guess that English is not your native language! What a lovely and poignant written snapshot of your father. And I love the fence story from the comments section, too!
Posted by Blogless wonder | November 9, 2012, 16:01Blogless,
The fence story is one of my favourite ones. It gives me an idea of my father as a happy man, I mean, before the fence pierced his leg of course.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 16:38Usually they tell the ACTORS to “break a leg!”
Posted by Blogless wonder | November 9, 2012, 17:01Lump in throat. Eyes stinging. Heart aching.
Posted by robincoyle | November 9, 2012, 16:54Robin,
Humbled.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 16:59Eric-
Quietly I nod my head in appreciation for this soft memory. Quite a perspective. Ever wonder what your children paint of you in their heads? I do– do they see us as people as you saw your dad?
I do so enjoy your softer side
Audra
Posted by unfetteredbs | November 9, 2012, 17:01I always pause when my kids say something that reflects on me as a person not as their Mom.. it is an enormously profound moment to realize they really “see” you..
Posted by unfetteredbs | November 9, 2012, 19:26Eric,
I’ve been thinking all day what to comment here. I’m still not sure, but I at least want to say thank you. I know that had to be tough. I appreciate that short, yet beautiful post very much.
Posted by Brother Jon | November 9, 2012, 17:23Brother Jon,
I thank you for allowing me to do this. Granted, it’s not a chippy post per se, but when it comes to my father, this is as peaceful as I can write it.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 19:17What a tear-jerker. Its hard for me to not draw comparisons to my own.
Posted by Adam S | November 9, 2012, 17:24Adam,
I’d love to read your post, if you ever write one.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 19:15I think it’s beautiful that you can look back and see both the man he was and the one he wanted to be. I like that. I also like that your dad’s inventiveness is something you clearly inherited. Self-expression is a such wonderful gift… no doubt your posts would reach your dad right where he lived, as another creative soul. What a sad, lovely and loving post.
Posted by Jennifer S | November 9, 2012, 17:32Jennifer,
Your comment really touched me. This is a wonderful thread overall, but charged with emotions I wasn’t expecting. Thank you. And I don’t think I’ve been on your blog yet. I might just do that.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 18:08L’Eric,
What a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing this. I think it took a lot of courage. Where’s there’s love, it seems often times there’s pain. I felt sad when I read it, but also felt you have a lot hope and forgiveness in your heart. Your father’s past has made you who you are, too. I bet he would be proud of you.
TBF
Posted by The Bumble Files | November 9, 2012, 19:06TBF,
It’s been one of most difficult comment threads I had to answer yet. On one hand, I am overwhelmed by the response, but on the other hand, it is bringing back a shitload of memories, pleasant ones, and much less pleasant ones. It does feel right, though.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 9, 2012, 19:13L’Eric,
As I said…courage. You’re doing great.
TBF
Posted by The Bumble Files | November 9, 2012, 19:19L’Eric,
I wanted to add…I admire you for it. I’m glad it feels right. It must be the right time to share.
TBF
Posted by The Bumble Files | November 10, 2012, 14:20Beautiful tribute to your Dad Eric. It could have almost been about my mother as well. xo
Posted by writerwendyreid | November 9, 2012, 19:32Wendy,
Thank you so much my friend. I have finally scheduled your post for Black Box Warnings: November 22.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:16You’re welcome. And great, I will fix it to publish that day.
Posted by writerwendyreid | November 10, 2012, 16:31Your line about how your dad did sadness really touched me. I bet there were so many things he would dream about doing for his family, probably regrets about things he did before he had a chance to be old enough to see other possibilities. I like that he had Art as an outlet to express himself. Thanks for sharing this beautiful human story.
Posted by compostingwords | November 9, 2012, 19:50Composting Words
I received the notification of your comment last night, but was not able to answer you before now. This has been a very emotional experience, albeit being a very positive one. Thank you for being so earnest in your comment.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:13I really like this – your tone and clear admiration. I love the portrait to. I’m working on a memoir about my Pop for my NaNoWriMo – so this hits pretty close for me. I love that he found art – that makes my heart smile for him.
Posted by artsifrtsy | November 9, 2012, 22:38Artsifrtsy,
Will this memoir be available on line, as it is part of NaNoWriMo? I would like to read it…
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:11L’Eric – It is a part of NaNoWriMo. I am posting excerpts every few days on a separate blog – I’m a photographer so writing is not my first inclination, but I have always wanted to get down some of his adventures. Here’s a link: http://thekingofisabelleavenue.wordpress.com
Posted by artsifrtsy | November 10, 2012, 23:26Wonderful post, L’Eric. Warm, loving, sad … a good tribute to your dad. I’ve been stubbornly determined to keep my blog 100% positive and upbeat, but your post motivates to possibly write something about my dad. Maybe I will – before Movember is over. Thank you for sharing.
Posted by Maddie Cochere | November 9, 2012, 23:39Maddie,
You’re a compelling writer. I would love to read a post about your dad. And if you do write one, please let me know. I have difficulties keeping up with reading posts lately, with Bloggers for Movember, and all.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:09Lovely.
Posted by purplemary54 | November 10, 2012, 02:09Mary,
Merci.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:07Truly powerful words in such a short piece. It was like one of those weird haikus that are supposed to be really deep, but no one understands them–only better.
Posted by Katie | November 10, 2012, 06:37Katie,
Thank you. I like your analogy to the haikus. Often so much packed in these 5-7-5 little wonders.
Le Clown
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:06This makes me look at my life and appreciate all that I’ve got. Thank you.
Posted by workspousestory | November 10, 2012, 07:22India,
Thank you for saying so. It’s very kind of you.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:05A wonderful tribute with a wide range of emotions over so few words. Well done.
Sorry I’m late as I was on a brief trip to Kansas City.
Posted by aFrankAngle | November 10, 2012, 09:37Frank,
You mean you ventured in the real life?
And thank you.
L’Éric
Posted by Le Clown | November 10, 2012, 12:05Sat with this overnight. Such a poignant and real piece; it moved me deeply. My father was killed when I was young, so I get the miracle of believing that I might have had a normal childhood, if only… He was wonderful and special in all the right ways, and not being able to watch him through older eyes, keeps that preserved. My mom did her best, but it wasn’t the best for me/us. I’ve written a lot about it, because that stuff tends to just simmer and boil up on occasion. The fact that your dad had art, strikes a tender chord for me… as I wonder what his memories were and how he learned to be (or not be) a father. Nice work. (PS: I’m slow on the uptake. Just got the whole Movember movement. I cringe with embarrassment. I’ve joined the clown posse)
Posted by talesfromthemotherland | November 10, 2012, 12:38I love this. A reminder that with all the shit we have to deal with, we must take the time to make our own Art.
Posted by travellingmo | November 13, 2012, 16:23