Dead Fathers' Club. Part One

I know I wrote, en passant, about being a co-founder of the Dead Father's Club with my college friend, Alice, way back in 1971. Have I not been therapized enough that this is still a big deal? Yes, and yes. If you are following me thus far, you either have lost a parent (through divorce or death) or you haven't. If you have, you know that if it happened when you were a child, before you totally convinced yourself that death was a reality, this is what it is like: you are standing on a small rug, and someone pulls it out from under you, and you fall and get hurt; and no one can make it better. Because you learn at a young age you are not safe. There is danger. And those who you hope will keep you safe are busy keeping themselves alive. And that is the name of that tune. And when I speak of the Dead Fathers' Club, which I will do on numerous occasions, keep it in mind.  The first thing you must realize about children who have been abandoned, be it by death or divorce, is that their first feeling is that there is no one who can be trusted. Adults lie. They will lie again. So how, as a child., do I protect myself? 

My husband's father died when he was eight.  He and I have very few things in common, but the fact that the truth about life and death can be shocking is among them. He grew up in a Greek Orthodox community. I grew up as a Jewish American Princess. They lied to him, too. We both had stepfathers. It was never the same.

Why am I mentioning this now? Because today was the first day of my twin daughters' winter break; and I practically begged them to come with me to the remake of "True Grit", done by the Coen brothers (love them), about an independent, articulate, wounded 14 year old daughter who wants to avenge the murder of her father.

This, to me, felt like a potentially bonding experience. I mean, I went to the the damn Harry Potter movies, despite my lack of interest, just so they'd know I was there--not that I think there should necessarily be quid pro quo...but knowing what I knew about the movie, and about them, I thought they'd enjoy it.  I know, movies are tricky (not to mention the fact that one has to sit through at least six coming attractions. Doesn't anyone remember that we all have short attention spans?)

And I am delighted to say, although they DID ask me how long it was; they enjoyed the remake, too. I have precocious daughters who will, I hope, never truly know what it is like to be fatherless children where no one, no one, can make it better. But that they called their father at work and said, "If someone killed you, I would try and kill them," makes me happy. Is there something wrong with this picture? Ahhh, keep it to yourself. 'Tis the season.