Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I have that very line of yours from the book, "Learning to swim in the ocean of not knowing - this is my constant work." marked in my notes, journal...it rings so true in the new relationship I have with my Dad. He has been suffering with memory loss and now lives in a memory care facility. It breaks my heart just to write that... He was a brilliant advertising executive who left his mark on the world, namely in working with Ethel Kennedy to establish what was the first breast cancer awareness program when break through drugs were introduced to the world. I miss him and yet he is before me. We will be with him today and celebrate him. All that he is today and ever was.
Jun 18, 2023·edited Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
When I was growing up, my dad delighted in sending unexpected insults towards me and my brothers. He once told me, "Do you know you look like a horse's ass?" I was in the back seat of his car, on my way to school where I was an honors student. I sat quietly as the words burned through my body, lighting me on fire. This went on for years until the day I left for college and put some space between us. But I moved back into my parents' house as a divorced 29 year old with two young boys and a dog with no where else to go. By then I learned how to use my voice so we could slowly set things right. And I grew to love my dad deeply. Forty years later, I found myself caring for my aging 101 year old father. Each and every night, as I helped him get into his pajamas and tucked him into the bed he had shared with my mom for 69 years, he would look into my eyes and say, "Thank you for all you've done for me. I really appreciate it"
I think of my dad every morning when I wake up and I feel his continued love with me every day.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I had and still carry with me three fathers. A bio dad who abandoned me, more than once, a step dad who adopted me and supported me and my brother his only child despite the difficulties, and my foster father who saved my life when I was a bereft teenager. In many ways I never learned to be a daughter, never felt as I truly belonged or was supported by any father figure. Not wholly and completely. Not with the kind of fatherly love that provides a girl with confidence in the shifting deep waters of this world. What a gift that must be. To feel at home in deep waters.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
My father left too early. I thought there was much more to discuss, for he was my torch in a darkened cave. But I can only whister his name now, and hope he hears.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Dearest Suleika. So filled with such a sense of peace, as I read of the beauty that is you and your father ..Sol and his father...and the tenderness of Nabil....
To those unexpected moments of floating deeply, yet- oh -so safely in the closeness of others!
With love, and with the joy of your Father's being able to experience your health and strength as the greatest birthday gift to him,
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
This is so beautiful. Suleika and Sol. I’m sitting on a beautiful beach looking out at the Atlantic and am moved to tears. When your Friday joy prompt comes around, know that reading the way you have described feeling above water and free is my joy this week.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
My father was neglectful, abusive, and disappeared into his own fantasy life. My brother and I tried to make some kind of solution and we failed. The last time I saw my father he thought that I was my brothers wife. He had dementia which was life long. As I kid I screamed for a father and it was not him. This week I wrote about 2 great substitutes one was the Gay stage manager at the theater where I was an apprentice and the other a Black Southern Baptist.. I would say I loved them, and I did. To me for my life is not placing importance on blood, sometimes a family truly is of the world or around the block.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I lost my father to suicide when he was just 51. I have a son who is now older than he was...my "kid." I often wonder if my dad knew how much I loved him and wanted his love back to me. He was very much in my life, but not a talker or an expresser of emotions. The words "I love you," never came out of his mouth. But I imagine him now, as I also struggle to live in uncertainty in my own life, that he is now healthy and happy, and able to say those words to me..."until we're together again, I love you."
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
As the 30 years go by since my dad’s passing, I never told him how many amazing experiences he introduced me too and how much I’m very like him. He showed me what being fully alive is, treating all people, no matter religion, rich or poor, black, brown or white, treat all with respect. And I received the gift of storytelling from him. He loved when he would speak in front of thousands of people either as head of The National Conference of Christian and Jews or taking long walks with me and him in the late nights of winter, by the ocean, telling me stories of his past. He was deeply flawed, like my mum, and caused me and my family great pain, but he was an amazing storyteller! “I love you dad”. ❤️🙏❤️❤️
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I lost my father when I was in school, and I have so many questions. What was it like to lose everything in the Depression and start over? What was it like flying in WW2? What were your impressions of Libya, Tunisia (yes!) and Sicily? What did you think of bombing Monte Cassino? How did you feel marching into Rome, then getting diverted to invade Provence, of all places? What was it like getting to Argentina and having the war end while you were on the way to Japan? What was it like to start over yet again after you got home? I have no one to ask, and no answers. Someday, I want to retrace his steps.
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Moving as ever, dear Susu. Thank you for taking us along for the swim, may you and your loved ones continue to float in the astounding beauty that you bring to the world. xoxo suSaw
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I woke up to the beautiful image of you and your father floating in the ocean together. Then this quote by Sol Guy:
“What we don’t heal, what we don’t confront, we pass on.”
My father died over 20 years ago. I loved him and he loved me but I didn’t often share my heart with him. Our conversations amounted to him talking and me listening, or sometimes he’d quiz me about what I was up to, but I never got the sense that he wanted to hear my thoughts.
After he died, I talked more openly with him. One time I remember walking alone along the beach in the early morning. I looked into the clouds and whispered, “Where are you?” Then I stopped walking, faced the flat, quiet ocean and yelled, “Where were you? All those years I was growing up, where were you?”
Stepping into the surf, I felt salty tears drop into the sea as I continue my rant. I said everything that had been stuck inside me like a ship in a bottle with no place to go.
Something was released that day and I was given a gift. I no longer thought of my father the way he was on earth. Instead, he became an essence, a floating soul without the old personality. From that point on I could only feel his supreme love, the love I knew he felt for me despite our troubles with communication. We’ve had a wonderful relationship and many heartfelt conversations ever since.
I now try hard to listen to my children as well as share my feelings. But more importantly, I’m curious to discover who they are—their dreams and fears, their irritations and what excites them. If I’d had a different father, I might not have learned this valuable lesson. Thanks, Dad. ❤️ (And thank you, Suleika, for sharing your heart with us to help us heal.)
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
What a beautiful tribute to your dad on Father’s Day. Him kissing you on your forehead every day and honoring your healing makes my heart explode. Thank you, thank you. ❤️
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
As I was so excited to hear how well you are doing, I didn’t even get to read beyond your remarks, Suleika. I wanted to express my joy in your miraculous point of healing.
How wonderful you are able to travel and swim! Happy Father’s Day to your dad! Now on to finishing with the unread story!
Jun 18, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I absolutely love this community! Suleika, I love the depth of emotions you bring out through your words. You turned swimming in the Mediterranean into a confrontation of what walking through troubled waters can bring--if the change is welcomed and felt. I love reading how you got to care and just simply be with your dad--after years of the reverse happening. I also loved how you recognized the uncertainty of life and the adamant choice to still live despite it all. The guess post--almost brought tears to my eyes. I resonated with Sol’s words deeply. Three years ago I confronted my dad and together we blew up the bomb that was ticking waiting to explode since childhood. I thought we would never rebuild a bridge for us to cross over. But somehow steadily throughout the years, Dad’s silence became words, his steady presence-- although not always consistent-- helped build context. Over time my heart drew close instead of distant. Before reading the entry today, I wrote Dad a letter and translated it into his native language for him to understand. He called shortly after reading with deep-felt gratitude. Love is a complex web that is always in transference. It's never steady it's always in constant motion. Building a bridge to cross over was one of the greatest gifts God gave me. Three years later, I can measure my growth over time. Now, that’s a blessing.
I have that very line of yours from the book, "Learning to swim in the ocean of not knowing - this is my constant work." marked in my notes, journal...it rings so true in the new relationship I have with my Dad. He has been suffering with memory loss and now lives in a memory care facility. It breaks my heart just to write that... He was a brilliant advertising executive who left his mark on the world, namely in working with Ethel Kennedy to establish what was the first breast cancer awareness program when break through drugs were introduced to the world. I miss him and yet he is before me. We will be with him today and celebrate him. All that he is today and ever was.
When I was growing up, my dad delighted in sending unexpected insults towards me and my brothers. He once told me, "Do you know you look like a horse's ass?" I was in the back seat of his car, on my way to school where I was an honors student. I sat quietly as the words burned through my body, lighting me on fire. This went on for years until the day I left for college and put some space between us. But I moved back into my parents' house as a divorced 29 year old with two young boys and a dog with no where else to go. By then I learned how to use my voice so we could slowly set things right. And I grew to love my dad deeply. Forty years later, I found myself caring for my aging 101 year old father. Each and every night, as I helped him get into his pajamas and tucked him into the bed he had shared with my mom for 69 years, he would look into my eyes and say, "Thank you for all you've done for me. I really appreciate it"
I think of my dad every morning when I wake up and I feel his continued love with me every day.
I had and still carry with me three fathers. A bio dad who abandoned me, more than once, a step dad who adopted me and supported me and my brother his only child despite the difficulties, and my foster father who saved my life when I was a bereft teenager. In many ways I never learned to be a daughter, never felt as I truly belonged or was supported by any father figure. Not wholly and completely. Not with the kind of fatherly love that provides a girl with confidence in the shifting deep waters of this world. What a gift that must be. To feel at home in deep waters.
My father left too early. I thought there was much more to discuss, for he was my torch in a darkened cave. But I can only whister his name now, and hope he hears.
Dearest Suleika. So filled with such a sense of peace, as I read of the beauty that is you and your father ..Sol and his father...and the tenderness of Nabil....
To those unexpected moments of floating deeply, yet- oh -so safely in the closeness of others!
With love, and with the joy of your Father's being able to experience your health and strength as the greatest birthday gift to him,
Janet
This is so beautiful. Suleika and Sol. I’m sitting on a beautiful beach looking out at the Atlantic and am moved to tears. When your Friday joy prompt comes around, know that reading the way you have described feeling above water and free is my joy this week.
My father was neglectful, abusive, and disappeared into his own fantasy life. My brother and I tried to make some kind of solution and we failed. The last time I saw my father he thought that I was my brothers wife. He had dementia which was life long. As I kid I screamed for a father and it was not him. This week I wrote about 2 great substitutes one was the Gay stage manager at the theater where I was an apprentice and the other a Black Southern Baptist.. I would say I loved them, and I did. To me for my life is not placing importance on blood, sometimes a family truly is of the world or around the block.
I lost my father to suicide when he was just 51. I have a son who is now older than he was...my "kid." I often wonder if my dad knew how much I loved him and wanted his love back to me. He was very much in my life, but not a talker or an expresser of emotions. The words "I love you," never came out of his mouth. But I imagine him now, as I also struggle to live in uncertainty in my own life, that he is now healthy and happy, and able to say those words to me..."until we're together again, I love you."
As the 30 years go by since my dad’s passing, I never told him how many amazing experiences he introduced me too and how much I’m very like him. He showed me what being fully alive is, treating all people, no matter religion, rich or poor, black, brown or white, treat all with respect. And I received the gift of storytelling from him. He loved when he would speak in front of thousands of people either as head of The National Conference of Christian and Jews or taking long walks with me and him in the late nights of winter, by the ocean, telling me stories of his past. He was deeply flawed, like my mum, and caused me and my family great pain, but he was an amazing storyteller! “I love you dad”. ❤️🙏❤️❤️
I lost my father when I was in school, and I have so many questions. What was it like to lose everything in the Depression and start over? What was it like flying in WW2? What were your impressions of Libya, Tunisia (yes!) and Sicily? What did you think of bombing Monte Cassino? How did you feel marching into Rome, then getting diverted to invade Provence, of all places? What was it like getting to Argentina and having the war end while you were on the way to Japan? What was it like to start over yet again after you got home? I have no one to ask, and no answers. Someday, I want to retrace his steps.
Moving as ever, dear Susu. Thank you for taking us along for the swim, may you and your loved ones continue to float in the astounding beauty that you bring to the world. xoxo suSaw
I woke up to the beautiful image of you and your father floating in the ocean together. Then this quote by Sol Guy:
“What we don’t heal, what we don’t confront, we pass on.”
My father died over 20 years ago. I loved him and he loved me but I didn’t often share my heart with him. Our conversations amounted to him talking and me listening, or sometimes he’d quiz me about what I was up to, but I never got the sense that he wanted to hear my thoughts.
After he died, I talked more openly with him. One time I remember walking alone along the beach in the early morning. I looked into the clouds and whispered, “Where are you?” Then I stopped walking, faced the flat, quiet ocean and yelled, “Where were you? All those years I was growing up, where were you?”
Stepping into the surf, I felt salty tears drop into the sea as I continue my rant. I said everything that had been stuck inside me like a ship in a bottle with no place to go.
Something was released that day and I was given a gift. I no longer thought of my father the way he was on earth. Instead, he became an essence, a floating soul without the old personality. From that point on I could only feel his supreme love, the love I knew he felt for me despite our troubles with communication. We’ve had a wonderful relationship and many heartfelt conversations ever since.
I now try hard to listen to my children as well as share my feelings. But more importantly, I’m curious to discover who they are—their dreams and fears, their irritations and what excites them. If I’d had a different father, I might not have learned this valuable lesson. Thanks, Dad. ❤️ (And thank you, Suleika, for sharing your heart with us to help us heal.)
What a beautiful tribute to your dad on Father’s Day. Him kissing you on your forehead every day and honoring your healing makes my heart explode. Thank you, thank you. ❤️
As I was so excited to hear how well you are doing, I didn’t even get to read beyond your remarks, Suleika. I wanted to express my joy in your miraculous point of healing.
How wonderful you are able to travel and swim! Happy Father’s Day to your dad! Now on to finishing with the unread story!
Thank you, Suleika and Sol for capturing the gift of being fathered well. Your words are a gift.
I absolutely love this community! Suleika, I love the depth of emotions you bring out through your words. You turned swimming in the Mediterranean into a confrontation of what walking through troubled waters can bring--if the change is welcomed and felt. I love reading how you got to care and just simply be with your dad--after years of the reverse happening. I also loved how you recognized the uncertainty of life and the adamant choice to still live despite it all. The guess post--almost brought tears to my eyes. I resonated with Sol’s words deeply. Three years ago I confronted my dad and together we blew up the bomb that was ticking waiting to explode since childhood. I thought we would never rebuild a bridge for us to cross over. But somehow steadily throughout the years, Dad’s silence became words, his steady presence-- although not always consistent-- helped build context. Over time my heart drew close instead of distant. Before reading the entry today, I wrote Dad a letter and translated it into his native language for him to understand. He called shortly after reading with deep-felt gratitude. Love is a complex web that is always in transference. It's never steady it's always in constant motion. Building a bridge to cross over was one of the greatest gifts God gave me. Three years later, I can measure my growth over time. Now, that’s a blessing.