My Aunt Sarah recently sent me a short poem titled "Empty Space" by Rudy Francisco. It summarizes perfectly something that I have been working on since I found out that my biological father was found dead on December 6, 2019. To say our relationship was "estranged" would be an understatement. In my mid to late teens, his substance abuse had reached a point that I no longer recognized the man I called Dad. I lost the man who took me on country drives and hikes up bluffs. Gone were the carefree boat rides on the Big Piney River and singing tunes with me in his truck as his trusty sidekick. Yet, the reality is I never stopped loving him. It was this thing called "self-preservation" that kicked in. Sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, you have to walk away from someone who could harm or kill you with their choices; even when that someone is your own father. So, I would drive by his place slowly at least once a year. Those years turned into decades. I never stopped to talk. It was just to look and see that he was still alive. Then, suddenly, he was not. I have learned a lot about his struggle to gain sobriety during the last year of his life. From his handwritten notes left in piles around his house, I have figured many things out about the last few years of his life. His banker, his insurance agent, and others have filled me in on how much closer he had become to Jesus and how much regret he had for not knowing me anymore. I also have learned the issues he fought with beyond substance abuse, including hoarding. Which leads to this poem "Empty Space." The space he left on his river lot was far from empty. After months of hard work, I got it to the point it was time to bring in a demo and excavation crew. Soon, it will be time for a SAFE installation of electricity and water. (Dad was not an electrician or plumber, but liked to dangerously dabble in those arts!) It is becoming an amazing spot on the Big Piney River once more. Considering I grew up on this river, it's a bit of a "homecoming" for me. I want to add this, too: never in my life would I think I would purchase so much gravel! As the space takes shape into something that resembles the place I remember going to see for the first time with my Dad when he purchased it, better memories are resurfacing that I had buried away. New ones are being made as I start sharing it with my closest loved ones. I have had several people tell me how proud they think he would be of what I am doing with the property, while others simply act confused why I am even bothering. Yet, as I have figured out, I would simply prefer they shut up if they cannot be supportive! I am sure some of you can relate to that. I have to say that through this process I have gotten excited about naming the property. Yes, I name everything including my Ford Escape. Betty Ford is a QUEEN, thank you very much! As I was going through Dad's things, I found several game cam memory cards. On one of them, there was a single image of a small black bear eating some feed he had out in the back of the hollow for a baby deer he had been nursing back to health. When my daughter was a little girl, we used to talk to the moon. So much so, I have a moon tattooed on my back in a piece I had done in honor of her. I did some research on the Bear Moon. This is a Native American belief that the full moon in January is the Bear Moon because that is when black bears have their young. My dad's birthday was January 13, and mine is January 19. So, put that all in a pot and stir it up and you have Bear Moon Hollow! I even made a graphic for it to put on a few signs and stickers. I couldn't help myself. My daughter says it is too "extra," whereas I think it's not enough. Perhaps a sweatshirt is in order, too! None of this was what I expected. I didn't expect to learn my Dad was sobering up, finding his way with Jesus' help, and talking to people about the fact he had a daughter he wished he had a relationship with again. I didn't expect to get a call he was found dead with his Bible and his glasses nearby. I didn't expect to find a serious hoarding issue. I didn't expect to find a way to bring beauty back to the space he no longer occupies. Yet, here I am. And, as strange as it is, I am sad we didn't get a chance to make amends and say "goodbye" face-to-face, but I know that anytime I am in the river laughing with my daughter, or I am sitting in the hollow listening to the wind in the trees and the trickle of the small spring on the property, I know he is at peace now. He knows I will take good care of the space he left behind. |
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Ms. TurnerStarting year 25 as a Journalism educator. Photographer. Mom. Nature-Junkie. Super Fan of Missouri State Parks and Conservation Lands. As a wise BJJTV alumni says, "Treat People Like People." Archives
February 2022
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