Where to Put Your Baggage
By: S. G. S. Abel
Tags: Family, Life Lessons, Aging, Celebrations, Parents

Where to Put Your Baggage

Photo by S. G. S. Abel

My father was turning 90. Last Christmas my stepmother started planning a big party. That was before the pandemic. It was changed to a small party, a beach party.

I live 700 miles from my father. With the pandemic, I assumed I would send a card and call. But my father wanted his immediate family to celebrate with him - at his favorite beach town - 850 miles from where I live. A 14 hour drive or a flight for a long weekend. At my age, a 14 hour drive in one day is pretty brutal. And the flight? Did I mention the pandemic? Not everyone has been quarantined like me. Those people frequent airports and airplanes just like any other public place. Since March I have limited my travel to my son’s house (2 hours by car), the grocery store, and work (5 people each with individual offices).

It was a hard decision. I was concerned about my health safety, but even more concerned about my father’s and stepmother’s. What if I made them sick? Did I really need to go?

Family history is complicated.

Every family has history, good and bad. Our history seemed idyllic.

Okay, there was the time I was made to clean my plate including the English peas. I didn’t, so my brother and sister went to the local carnival and I went to bed. I still don’t cook or eat English peas.

Once my father made my sulking teenage self go to the mall with the rest of the family to get out of the house. I would never admit I was glad he made me go.

But life was good. No abuse or heinous crimes committed. But after 32 years of marriage, my father cheated on my mother with my soon-to-be stepmother. I came home to announce my engagement, only to be met with “I’m leaving your mother.” Until her passing this past January, my mother was the kindest, gentlest person I knew. She never said anything unkind about anyone, even my father. He hurt her. My two siblings and I took it hard. We were in our twenties and thought our family was ideal. Each of us envisioned having a marriage just like theirs.

Even for young adults, a happy blended family doesn’t just happen. You have to work at it. Mistakes are made, things are said, feelings are hurt — so many insignificant little things in the big scheme of life. We felt our stepmother broke up our family. Then we felt our father favored her family. We now had baggage.

All siblings have their differences, so my siblings and I all had different timelines of acceptance. Families have baggage, good and bad. As I grew up, I eventually put those insignificant little things that hurt behind me.

I made a decision.

My siblings and step-siblings were all invited. I agonized about traveling to the beach during the pandemic, to visit elderly people. Then my husband said, “You know, if we don’t go, none of your father’s children will be there.” He was right. I immediately felt guilty for entertaining thoughts of not going. My sister had just moved out west, making her farther away than me. She has a life. Insignificant little things. My brother lives 30 minutes from my father and has a job that requires weekend work. He has a life. Insignificant little things. And again, we have baggage.

A good time was had by all.

So I took off work and my husband, son and I went to the beach. My stomach dropped when I saw my father. In10 months his mobility had noticeably decreased. I was hit with, “I’m so glad I came. This could be the last time I see him.”

We had a great time. We ate great food, enjoyed good weather, had good conversation, laughed, and basically participated in activities typical of 80 and 90 year-olds.

We reminisced about the past and contemplated the present. We talked about what great fathers two of the grandsons are. I am proud to say one is my son. My father stated how he knew he wasn’t like that. He was just a good provider for us and no more, as I think many of his generation were. He went on to say he didn’t understand why my brother rarely, if ever contacted him or returned his calls, and said, “but that’s on me, too.” My sister called to wish my father a happy birthday. My brother didn’t. Yep, life, work, insignificant little things, baggage.

Leave your baggage at the door

We all make choices in life that hurt others. I know I have. My father has. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the hurts when you feel you or someone you love has been wronged. Over the years I learned to appreciate the family my stepmother gave my father. My stepsister is a true angel in caring for my father and stepmother. She is there when I can’t be. I forgave my father and stepfamily years ago for those insignificant little things. In the big scheme of life, they did not matter.

Photo by S. G. S. Abel

I lost count of the times my father told me how happy he was we made the trip. I felt the same. If my presence was what he wanted on his birthday, I’m glad I could give him that.