Tissue Box 29 - Your Flawed Father

Tissue Box 28 | Tissue Box 30

## Transcript

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I wonder how many times I've tried to Ctrl-Z something I said in anger to my daughter Mari.

And how many good moments have I tried to copy and paste?

The fear of unknowing I had when we left the hospital for the first time, and drove down Interstate-15 to our apartment, is something no horror movie can replicate.

The absolute absurdity that as long as we had a car-seat for our car that they would let us take a precious baby home to care for without any prior training skill confounds me, 20 years after I first buckled her in.

20. Years.

You always hear that "Time moves faster the older you get", but nothing speeds up time like a growing child.

Mari, was a challenge for me.

I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready for responsibility, that can't be postponed.

Or ignored.

Children are selfish by nature.

Evolution dictates, that the strongest shall survive.

And Mari, from day one of her life, was strong.

Since before she could even speak, she told me, that I should never stop the car while she was trying to sleep.

She told me, that her favorite song, was "Sukiyaki" by Sakamoto Kyu, by letting me know each time the song ended, with her fierce crying.

But even before Mari could cry, she let me know how much she liked that song.

As I laid in bed, with my head, gently laying on my sleeping, and very pregnant, wife's womb, her restless kicking inside stopped, when I first sang it to her.

It was that day that I realized, Mari wasn't just a part of my wife, but a completely new life.

Mari is sensitive, and, I am often unable to understand her sensitivity.

We are both independent, and strong, and have too much pride to let the other side win.

This led to much conflict where I, as a father, did what I never thought I would.

I struck, in anger.

Like an animal striking out in pain.

I never wanted to be that man.

I never wanted to give Mari those memories.

The last time I stuck her, she told me, she would never forgive me.

And she repeated to me the words that I had taught her.

"The person who uses violence is the looser."

I can't undo what happened, and extreme anger is no excuse.

But Mari has forgiven me, although I know she still remembers.

As I reflect, on the almost 20 year relationship with my daughter, I realize that our relationship, is not black and white.

It is a million shades of gray.

I hate her.

And, I love her.

I hate her, for the way I respond in moments of stress when I'm with her.

And I love her, for the deep compassion she has for any animal in distress, and any person in need of help.

Mari does not discriminate, she has had, Black, White, and Asian boyfriends.

They have been fat, and fit.

And although I am not sure what her first girlfriend looked like, I now understand that she didn't tell me she was bi-sexual, just to upset me.

I guess, sometimes girls are easier to be with.

Although she did tell me, she expects more from a girl, than she does from a boy.

A boy can be dirty and messy, it's expected, but girls must be clean, no exceptions.

It was Mari that made me understand the difference between sexuality, and gender identity.

She is always ready to remind me, to say "he", when referring to trans-gendered men.

And, also, not to call them, a transgender.

She also re-enforced what I already knew about humans.

Humans can build skills through repeated practice of that skill.

Her art skill, and my lack of art skill, prove that for sure.

As I reflect, I am sad that she is no longer in my care.

At least not, my direct care.

I can't undo the parts of her childhood where I was weak.

And I can't unsay, the horrible words that came out of my mouth.

But I can say, these few things, now.

Mari, I love you unconditionally.

Mari, I'm proud of everything you have become.

Mari, I love you more than I could possibly show, or express.

Mari, Thank you for understanding why I left home for more than a month at a time to pursue my dreams.

And I'm sorry for those times, you needed me, when I was gone.

Mari, I feel bad for not always living up to your expectations.

Especially with my words, and my actions.

Mari, please have more patience, with your future children, than I did with you.

I love you, and more importantly, I like you.

The times I said "I hate you" were never my true feelings.

They were just my emotions taking control of the dialogue.

Mari, let's sing together again, play Taiko no Tatsujin together again, and even wrestle together, like when you were eight.

Let's not let adulthood stop us, from being what we are.

Father, and daughter.

Love, your flawed dad.