While on the phone with my mum this morning, she lists her tasks of the day, how its too smoky to walk outside comfortably, what groceries she still needs to get and how annoying it is that she has to go to multiple locations to get what she needs – standard monotony for our calls. Then, I think sensing that she has been talking for the last 7 minutes, she asks “Um, made any good recipes lately?”
I replied “not particularly, mum”. Cooking isn’t something I’m known for, I make the same kinds of things but here and there I will feel inspired to try something new. I add “You dont know what to ask me, do you?” She says “no”. She tries again “well, you went to whole foods last week, how was that?”
I do love Whole Foods. “It was good mum, I always like going there, I dont really know what to say about it though”. My agitation growing slightly as I get that familiar creeping sense that she doesn’t know me and has no idea how to connect.
I ask if dad is around to chat. It’s his birthday, which is why I called so early, he was out for a walk until now. I hear mum say to him that I want to talk to him, his shoes tracked in dirt from outside, he says he needs to vacuum and he will give the phone back to mom while he does.
10 minutes pass of more groceries, suitcases, politics. “Mum, is dad available now?” She replies “Oh, yes I think so he’s just eating some fruit”. She tells him, manda wants to talk to you. He hops on. “Hi manda, go ahead I’m all ears”. “Hey dad, I didn’t have anything in particular I wanted to ask you, it’s your birthday so I just wanted to connect. I know you’re in the middle of your routine so we can always talk later”. He says “no that’s okay, we can talk now” (…silence).
I ask him about the new chess book he got, how I heard he’s been working hard to prepare for the upcoming chess tournament. He says yes he’s been spending a lot of time on it and really enjoying learning more styles and configurations. I recognized while we were on the phone that “dad, chess is very much about pattern recognition isn’t it, memorizing and recognizing when certain positions are present or opportunities are there to play a sequence out?” He says “Yes it is, that’s right. There’s lots of creativity to it, too”
”I think you and I have similar brains dad, I also think Im very good at pattern recognition. I hear my mom say “You are?” In surprise. “Yeah mum, that’s what I think makes me good at my job, is being able to recognize threads or themes. It’s also why I’m good at puzzles.” She says “well I’m good at puzzles too”.
Dad says he’s thinking “turning 32 this year sounds like a nice year to celebrate”, to which I replied “I know Im getting old when you joke about wanting to be younger than me”. They both laugh. I lean into ending the call as I can feel the awkwardness of a slight forced-ness of being on the phone for my dad.
This is the arena I trained in to work hard for connection.
Despite knowing their capacities, I still yearn to be close with them, to be known by them, to have them be as curious about me as I naturally am about them. When we’re together there are moments I soak up their presence like sponges, because I know one day I wont be able to talk to mum on the phone about her chickpea flour she can’t find, or to my dad about the Tour de France. Of course there are also times I need to be alone to maintain my sanity.
Holding both the grief and sadness, in the disconnect I feel with them while also not wanting it to end is a weird nuanced complex experience I have sat with all my life. For as long as I can remember I’ve always been terrified of my dad in particular, dying.
My dad is the one that holds the family memories, the one I can have deeper conversations with, was tender and could see my feelings growing up, encouraged me to pursue things I was interested in, gave me enthusiastic praise with pride when I did something cool or admirable. I love watching him retell stories of me doing something bold or impressive growing up, and his reactions seem just as animated as when they happened. My dads nurturing is a huge credit to me being a well functioning and flawed human.
The complexity lies with none of this being consistent, and yet the feelings for me are.
The space between what is and what I want aches at times. I know how hard it is to sit with that nuance. That many things are there and many are not. That reminder that we can only be as close to someone else as their and our capacities allow. That connection cannot be forced, or it’s just putting icing on cardboard and pretending it’s a cookie.
Amanda Bowers Counselling 