August 17, 2007 § 6 Comments
I talked to my father today. It had been eight months since we last spoke, and after a series of unanswered emails, I gave up hoping for a response.
He was, for a long time, the only member of my family I could count on. As immigrants, there were no aunts and uncles to go to, no grandparents, no cousins, and with two of our four stricken with schizophrenia, we were the only ones left.
Because of it, we were close, in a way that fathers and daughters generally aren’t. We were friends, and, in my better moments, I accepted this as fair trade for the family I didn’t get. As we became estranged, I thought, “he avoids the things that disappoint him.” I know him that well.
Last night, I wrote the email I’d been putting off for weeks. I said a lot of things, which together comprised an ultimatum: in my life or out of it, but not in between. He made his choice and called, but now the hard part begins. The part where things are different than before.
In the meantime, I am taking stock of this strange, solitary summer and wondering what kind of fall it will be.