My Futile Attempt to Heal Old Wounds

Some updates + stuff I've been sitting on lately

In my last post, I touched on my dad’s deteriorating condition, and how I’ve paused working on my book as a result.

I really feel like I’m in no position to process all that is happening right now while we wait for him to take his last breath, but I do know when I am, I’ll be coming back to the book with a wider, deeper, or at least different, perspective.

That being said, I feel like I’ve had a few thoughts bubbling up inside me with no outlet, so I’m just gonna throw some here and who knows, maybe one will resonate with someone out there 🧚‍♀️

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On my last visit home, I noticed that my brother Nelson was really fixated on maximizing quality time with my dad.

It struck me because when my mom was terminally ill, Nelly (a 19-20 year-old engineering student at the time) spent very little quality time with her. Occasionally I would confront him about it because I was baffled that he wasn’t revolving his life around her, as I was.

When she was first diagnosed with cancer, I moved back home from Montreal before my classes were over (I still graduated, just with a lower GPA from skipping finals). Then, when she got her terminal diagnosis, I quit my job to spend as much time with her as possible.

I made sure I was available and present for any window of time that she might be awake while he went off to hang out with friends.

The contrast between how Nelly was acting now vs then allowed me to see how I too am trying to avoid the regrets I have around my mom’s death by taking a different approach with my dad.

Only my regrets are different. I’m not worried about quality time (because I got plenty with my mom); I’m worried about leaving things unsaid. Forgiveness and apologies. Gratitude. Love.

All the important stuff that I didn’t get to with my mom. All the things that would have allowed our relationship to go a level deeper, even if it was just for the briefest period of time.

In the end (for me anyway), I feel like reaching that level of depth with someone you love is all that matters. And I didn’t get there with my mom.

Needless to say, I continue to be haunted by all the vulnerable conversations we never had. So it may come as no surprise that I have been determined to not repeat the same mistake with my dad. Even if I wasn’t totally conscious of the fact that this is what I was doing.

Just as my brother is trying to be more present, for years I have been trying to breakthrough an invisible threshold of defenses and niceties to go deeper with my dad.

There’s the documentary I started to make about him (filmed over a couple of years until the center of our attention shifted to my newborn son). And let’s not forget the whole damn book I wrote which evolved into—as one friend put it—a love letter to my dad.

Let me tell you, these endeavours were not easy to do with someone I have been trying my best to push out of my life since I was ~12-years-old (in part because he had so many maladaptive coping mechanisms that made it near-impossible to be real with each other). So I am proud of myself for getting to the point that we can have (relatively) open dialogue.

But surprise! Achieving this with my dad doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t with my mom. Apparently avoiding new wounds doesn’t actually heal old ones. LOL!

On the plus side, my brother and I are able to have both quality time and heart-to-hearts with each other. He’s the best and I’m so grateful our relationship has only gotten stronger through all the trials and tribulations of the last 15 years.

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I recently heard (can’t remember where) that the best memories we have of our parents, are ones where they were having fun.

Because all I have of my mom is memories, I know which are the best, so this statement immediately rang true for me. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to conjure any memories of times when my dad was having fun.

This is a very heavy thought for me to ponder, and makes me all the more eager to revisit the work I was doing around “fun” (before I shifted to pollinators), and double down on unlocking it (for both myself and others) in this next chapter of my life. More to come on that¹…

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In a meeting this week, a colleague with three kids (aged 10, 12, and 14) was making small talk when told me how he recently discussed with his wife how much they would be willing to spend to get another 24 hours with one of their kids at my son’s age (he’s now 2 ½ years old, and more delightful than ever.)

I already had tears running down my face when he told me what I already expected to hear: “an obscene amount.”

I know this time is the epitome of priceless; the joy I feel when I’m truly present with Teo is almost too much to bear. And yet, knowing that, and appreciating these precious moments, does absolutely nothing to stop them from slipping away from me so quickly. SIGH!!

It’s so much easier to live in denial, as if tomorrow will be just like yesterday. But I learned that lesson the hard way when my mom died before we had the chance to go deeper (as explained above). One day we were talking about the news, and the next she was gone.

Being a motherless mom sucks for obvious reasons, but I don’t think I could have really internalized all the cliches about the importance of “letting go” and “living in the moment” without experiencing such a significant loss early in my life.

(Funnily enough, I have come to believe that to master fun, you have to master the art of letting go. It’s all connected!!!!)

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While I’m on the topic of fun and siblings:

On a We Can Do Hard Things podcast episode about sisterhood, Brene Brown and Glennon Doyle discussed what they were secretly worried their siblings (they are each managed by their sisters) thought of them.

I instantly knew that my secret worry with Nelly is that he thinks I am not fun.

My brother is so fun. It helps that he’s an extroverted night-owl with endless energy play team sports and go to middle-of-the-night happenings. I meanwhile turn into a pumpkin at 7pm (and lamentably that time seems to be creeping closer and closer to 6pm😬).

When I divulged my insecurity, his immediate response was “well, I think maybe with some people you have fun?”²

Thanks Nelly.

Research is me-search my friends. I am not studying fun because I have SO MUCH of it, but because I don’t. And am close enough to people who do to see the benefits and to believe it’s possible for me.

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One last thing:

While my book about pollinators is on hold, I am still very eager to connect with other pollinators!! (See🧚‍♀️Polli-Nation🧚🏽‍♂️: a hive for human pollinators.)

Are you, or is someone you know:

1. a “multi-” (hyphenated, potentialite, passionate, faceted etc) and

2. a bridge-builder (ideally working on their own initiatives that help connect people to themselves, nature, and/or each other)?

If so, please reach out/introduce me!

Thank you to Tes and Anthony (fellow pollinators 🤩) who have recently introduced me to some top notch 🪲🐝🦋.

1. Some things I am trialling as I try to move away from just thinking about fun to actually having it:

1. hobby club: an IRL community dedicated to transforming our precious free time into something that actually helps us feel free

2. monday funday: a NYC-based event series designed to foster inspiration and connection

I’m still in the early stages of bringing these to life, and would love some thought partners, early adopters, and collaborators 🤩 aka some fellow pollinators!

2. To be fair, when Nelly then confided that his worry was that I think he is like my dad, I responded that he is. Haha. Though I assured him that he is like my dad only in the best ways, while also being unlike him in the best ways. He didn’t similarly reassure me, but maybe I am not fun also somehow in the BEST WAY?!