It’s nearing the first anniversary of my father’s
death, and the third of my mother. I
think about them constantly and reflect a lot these days, which has pretty much
led me to wrestle with a profound state of depression. It’s like I feel lost. I have the most wonderful husband and son…my
family means the world to me, but it’s like their love and my love for them
doesn’t fill me as it should. That
sounds crazy, I know. However, I think I
am subconsciously allowing the void of my parents’ deaths to remain in the
primary bubble where I exist, shutting out everything else. I have to really deal with their passing, but
I just can’t get there. I’m inside my
head too much, and it’s beginning to take its toll on me mentally, and by
extension, physically…It’s hard to get out of bed each day and TCB, which is
NOT like me. So I decided that I need to
write down what I’m feeling and just get it out. Therapy is a great option, but I can’t even
speak about my feelings without crying, so why waste $$ if all I can do is sit
and cry for 55 minutes. Hopefully this
will act as a catharsis for me to be able to identify my feelings, own them,
talk about them, and DEAL with them.
Presently, I’m listening to “Harvest Moon” by Neil Young,
which for some reason triggers for me a very specific time in my life with just
me and my mom and dad; the three of us.
I was living in San Diego, and my Dad was attending a teacher’s
conference in Los Angeles & Mom came with him. We decided to meet in LA, and mom & I
thought we’d do some touristy things while Dad was seminar-ing. The highlight of the experience for my Dad
was meeting Telly Savalas (who loves ya baby), Kojak himself, in of all places,
the men’s room of the hotel where we were staying. I’d never seen Dad star-struck before, and he
was so giddy…hysterical about the meeting place. Anyway, the point to my story is that after
Dad’s conference, I had some time off to go north for a few days, then fly back
home, so I drove with them back up to the bay area. One of the things about my folks is that they
weren’t really wanderers, but they loved to go for drives, not to see where the
road took them, but to plan out a route, then go for it. I am more of a meanderer, whimsical,
spontaneous kinda gal.
So we’re driving
along the freeway, and we are nearing the Ventura Highway, and I asked them,
“Ever been to SOLVANG?” I knew this
would pique their curiosity, as I knew Mom would just love it; Dad being an
avid reader like me, had just finished a Dean Koontz book that took place
there. So I actually talked my parents
into taking a detour on the fly, as we were driving.
Little did I know that this would push Dad
out of his comfort zone. He would study
maps BEFORE driving, so he could envision the trip. Mom & I were chatting away, listening to
the radio (Harvest Moon) and all of a sudden I felt cold – REALLY cold. I noticed my mom had put on her sweater.
“Are you cold mom?” I asked. She shot me a sideways glance & motioned
to my father.
“Dad, could you turn down
the A/C? We’re freezing!”
Well, in typical Phil fashion, here is the
answer we received: “NO. I am driving this car. And the DRIVER makes the decisions. I will NOT turn down the A/C.”
“Seriously? Look at Mom, she’s nearly shivering!”
Dad replied, “The DAMN DRIVER takes precedence. THE DRIVER needs to be comfortable. I’m the DRIVER of this car!”
“What do you suggest?
It’s the middle of summer and I didn’t bring a jacket!”
“Not my problem. It’s
the DRIVER’s prerogative. I control the A/C.”
Mom & I just started laughing hysterically, at the
absurdity of it all, which only served to piss my Dad off further.
I said, “OK, the DRIVER has spoken! I’ll just sit back here. And if my lips turn blue, would someone do me
the courtesy of giving me CPR?” I
remember there was a pillow in the back seat, and I pulled the pillowcase over
my legs like a sleeping bag, and, since the driver proclaimed it was his
prerogative (to serve his guests chilled), I bundled up with the pillow.
Looking back on this, I understand that my Dad was driving
on an unfamiliar road, which happened to have lots of twists and turns, and he
was really not comfortable as he had not studied a map of where we were
headed. He was probably sweating, which
is why he wanted the air on. But my Dad
was not one to ever admit weakness, even if it risked him looking like an
asshole. I think I was one of the few people on this earth who really understood him and that’s why I could tell him
to shove it one minute, and love him immensely the next.
By the time we got to Solvang, the joy had really gone out
of the experience…but we managed to pull it together and eat some pastries and
see the sights.
Wow. That did make me
feel better.
Miss you Mom & Dad.
XOXO
Philip Liston Romer
November 17, 1934 – August 13, 2011
Janis Annette (Lott) Romer
August 31, 1937 – November 12, 2009
