There is a man I know who is missing something, something essential to who he is and who he has become. In those quiet moments when the lights are out, the curtains are drawn and he is so close to me that I can feel his breath against my lips like the faint approach of heat, is when this man speaks to me about the missing piece to his puzzle. Even in darkness I can see his slanted eyes that blink slowly from his deep thoughts, his plump lips that curve into the shape of each word that escapes his mouth and the distant expression on his face that shows the pain he is so adamantly trying to cover.
"Baby, did I tell you I ran into my father again last night?" His memory was fogged from the drinks he downed just to cope with the unexpected meet. He had told me twice in an hour that he saw his father the night before and now, after having slept off the inebriation from the hours prior, he is unclear. Asleep in the middle of the night, I thought I was dreaming until I felt his hand stroke the side of my face in a continuous rhythm. He asks me again until he hears my response, groggy and half spoken, "Yes, baby, you did." Knowing that this was one of those rare moments when he is willing to open up to me about his pain, I sat as still as a paralyzed victim; I was so quiet I had to remind myself to breathe, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would interrupt his thoughts and jerk him back to reality; I waited for him to speak again.
"It was cool, but I don't know, it is what it is..." And what is it exactly? I'd like to know. As I wait in silence for him to continue, I think about his statement and try to figure how I can work my questions in: Is it you being happy at the chance to finally get some answers about how your deceased mother used to be in her teenage years? Is it your wanting him to embrace you like the father you've always wished for him to be? Is it that you're searching for an apology for his absence? Or at the fact that you finally get to ask why he never helped you assemble the toy train he got you one year for Christmas because he left and never came back? What does this statement, "It is what it is," mean? Because I am from the outside looking in and I see it all.
I wanted to come back with a response to "It is what it is." And if it were my time to interject I'd tell him what it truly is: It's you trying to understand why after 28 years he is proud of you, when he didn't have a hand in your upbringing; it's you having mixed emotions about accepting him into your life; it's you coming to terms with him and trying to understand who he is today; it's you realizing that if you don't deal with your pain in a healthy and mature manner it will stunt your growth and the growth of our relationship; it's you trying to figure out you.
The irony of this 35 year old man, who is so angry with his father, still waits for him to come back. The next morning he says to me, "You'll meet him. Well, no, I don't want you to meet him yet. I can see it now, you having a deep conversation with him that will bring you to tears and you'll tell him. You'll tell him that I still cry over him, how I sometimes get angry and don't know how to act, how I want to fight him and how I really want a relationship with him. You'll tell him my secret and I don't want him to know." Pondering the thought of this hypothetical meeting, I smiled to myself and in a hushed tone, so low that only I could hear, I replied, "Don't worry baby, your secret is safe with me."
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