M&Ms and my Dad

M&Ms, I have been thinking about this chocolatey candy a lot lately.  I have used it to describe myself, crunchy and colourful on the outside and melty and soft on the inside. That was my dad, when I think about him, that's how I see him. Just before Father's Day, I had him on my mind. On Father's Day, I thought not of him, not once. When I read the thoughtful words that others wrote about their dads, it hit me, I didn't acknowledge my dad. A day later, with my son in the car, I said dad, I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge you on Father's Day, I'm still a little mad at you but I'm working through it, and I am.  I am working through my thoughts, my beliefs, my feelings, my hate, my love, my adoration for a man that didn't have words to communicate, who went mute when in pain and who withdrew when he suffered loss, hiding what perhaps he saw as weakness to share, his grief perhaps too big to bare.  He taught me to suffer alone, that asking for help was a sign of weakness, that leaning on someone else and trusting them to help carry the heavy burden of grief would end in disappointment and disaster. That was the crusty outside of the man, the man that he had become from being in a world where home, siblings, mother had been stolen from him at the age of twelve~he was fighting for his life and killing communists when he was forced to leave or die...on the inside my dad was and is pure love, the melty chocolatey centre was the tender heart to heart man that whistled everyday and came through the door after work singing a new song, taking off his tie and skipping for us and making us laugh in church and at the dinner table. He was intense and colourful and crazy fun all at once and he was the most honest man I have ever known.  I laugh as I cry and write and realize how much I am like him, intolerant of nonsense, especially my own. The last time I was with my dad in my car, he was sick and wasn't supposed to eat chocolate. There were M&Ms in the car and he reached for them and I reminded him dad, you aren't supposed to eat those and in his weakened state he said, oh yeah. Namaste Daddy, I see you now, not with the eyes of a young daughter in pain, I see you with the eyes of an adult who makes mistakes, errors in judgement AND is all shades of fun and laughter, darkness and sadness unhidden from the world, free to be me no matter who is watching and Dad, I hope the streets in Heaven are paved with delicious colourful crunchy melty M&Ms, eat as many as you want! Your sweetheart, Linda.