I have been thinking about my parents a lot lately. For a person my age, it is sad I have to talk about how they used to be because they were taken far too early, both victims of the serial killer known as alcoholism. I have written many heartfelt posts telling the tale of what my perspective was like growing up as a child of alcoholic parents. But the more I read those posts again, and cried again, I realized I had been doing them a grave injustice.
So, I went back to the beginning – back to the days before that serial killer lurked in the shadows of my house, back to the days when life was great and back to the days when no elephant existed in any room in our home.
My mom and dad were a lot of fun. My brother and I had many parties at our family home and my parents would remain in their bedroom allowing us full access to the house to host our friends. But at the end of the night, the number of our friends watching TV with my parents in their room far outweighed the number of our friends in our living room. Those were my parents.
They played strip ping-pong with the neighbors. They ran naked from the neighbors’ sauna to roll in the snow and then back to the sauna. They enjoyed life, they made the most of the good times and they truly loved each other. My mother summed it up completely in the caption of this photo of the four of us, “Happiness is Port Carling”.
When I began to think of what they were like as a couple, I couldn’t help but smile remembering how my dad used to look at my mom. If my mom was within arm’s length, his hands would make contact with whatever part of her he could reach. He would pat her bum as she walked by him. He would kiss her every chance he got. And when he grabbed her hand, I could see his hand physically squeezing hers several times in a sworn gesture of being smitten by her. It was all about being able to touch each other, just to remind each other that they were there for the right reasons.
I had long forgotten those moments. I was so marred by the effects alcohol had on their relationship I failed to remember the beautiful connection they had with each other.
And now that I have blinded myself to the painful memories, I will embrace the images of their fingers intertwined without realizing they were holding hands. I will cling to the thought of how my dad just wanted to be close to her. And I will forever hold close the knowledge that a simple touch from someone who means so much can change everything about your day.
After so many daily thoughts about so many things that don’t matter, I finally realized…..these are the things I should remember.