My Prodigal Father
(Syracuse, New York, USA)
My father and I were estranged for most of my life. He lived in the home with me until I was three, and then he was just gone. I saw him two other times in my life, once when I was seven, and again when I was 19.
Now, at age 36, I hadn't thought about him often at all. I have my own children and life, and I never wanted to expose them to the inconsistency of an absentee grandfather.
However one day I woke up with an undeniable urge to see my father. This urge wasn't to tell him off, or to ask for explanations, or any release of anger. It was simply an urge to be in his presence, to accept who he is, to share a meal, possibly a laugh.
I meditated on this feeling for a while. I thought that it would be nice if it could happen, if we could at least have a conversation. I didn’t know my father’s phone number or address at all, so I couldn't do much else about it.
By the end of the day, he'd found me. Through family and friends he reached out through email, and just wanted to talk. By the end of the week we were having that conversation. My only regret is that I took so long to just want to talk. I feel like if I had wanted it, felt it, willed it, attracted it, earlier, it would have happened earlier.