Update: reconciliation with the Dad

Well, I did it, I took a step I was so sure I would never EVER take...I called my Dad. I got his voicemail, which, strangely, was a very bittersweet moment. It may sound a little weird, but His voicemail still has the same recording I put on his phone over 15 years ago.

How Bizarre to hear myself talking, when I expected him to answer. I gotta admit, it was a moment. I had some old tinges of "what am I doing?" and "am I REALLY ready for this? Is this the right thing to do"

I decided to quiet my mind and be as direct and concise as possible....anyone who know me, knows that I am not known for my "short" conversations. If anything, I am a prattler, a storytelling type of person, stream-of-consciousness, if you will, but out loud.

So here is a transcript, in a condensed version:

Me- "Is this the old man?'

him- "why jess, is this Chana?" (imagine somewhat whick Mexican accent)

me- "how are you, did you get my note?"

him- "yes, yes, I did, it was very nice. I'm getting old over here! Before ju know it, they will be puching me around in de wheelchair! How are you?"

Me- " everyone here is healthy and well....so, would you like to get together sometime?'

him- "oh, yes, most certainly, would you and your family like to have some brunch on a Sunday...we could meet somewhere, if that makes you feel alright?"

me- "that would be nice...."

The rest of the conversation was actually quite nice. I could tell he was trying to contain his happiness that I had called. I could also tell he was just trying to get the conversation completed without crying.

In a word, if felt nice to hear his old banter and to know that he had absolutely NOTHING BAD to say..I would imagine that he knows he is sort of on a "probationary" trial with me. he did not want to know where the house was, or what my home number was. It was as good as I could have wanted, actually.

I think we will take him up on the invitation, but I am not quite sure how soon.

That phone conversation took place almost 2 weeks ago, and he has not called me back since then. I think he knows that this is a sort of "don't call me, I'll call you " sort of arrangement.


For almost 20 years I had the most horrible dreams about my father. I would wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, choking on my own fears, sometimes screaming for help. Some nights I would be unable to fall back asleep, for fear the dream would pick up where it left off. All the dreams would be worse than anything I had ever imagined, but they persisted, no matter how long my husband could tell me it was not real, that he was there with me, and that all was safe and well.

Since the "telling him off" situation from last year, the dreams have slowly morphed...my dad would take on a minor role in a dream, or he would just be riding in the car with me somewhere, for absolutely no reason. Now he hardly ever shows up in my dreams,and they certainly have not been nightmares for quite some time.

It's nice to know that even the deepest wounds are capable of healing themselves with just a good amount of patience and careful introspection.