Three-Minute Memoir

The first time Dad came home from rehab, he was crazy—just mad, mad, mad all the time. He even laughed angry: “HA! HA! HA!” with eyebrows down. He blamed all his mistakes on the rest of us: “You made me take the wrong turn. You made me lose my temper. You made me break the TV.”
In those day, the man of the house was God. You did not question him. I knew I must be a very bad girl indeed.

Fast forward thirty years. It’s the morning of my daughter’s 5th birthday party. We’ve gone out to buy party favors. But when we leave the store, our car won’t start. Rats. The party’s three hours away.

Fortunately my parents live just a few miles away. Mom says she’ll send dad right over, so my daughter and I sit down on the curb and wait. And wait. And wait.

Nervously I remember all the years when he’d get drunk and forget to pick me up at school or the park and I had to walk home. But he’s been sober eighteen months now. What could have happened? An accident?

Forty-five minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot. Sheepishly he says, “Sorry. I got lost.”

Instantly I go into a blind rage. As my daughter and I get in, it’s all I can do to keep from screaming at him, hitting him.

Meanwhile dad is chauffeuring us all over town so we can get everything else we need for the party.

I know I'm nuts, but I can’t stop.

I try self-analysis: Am I feeling angry because even in recovery he’s still not the father I always wanted? Is anger bubbling up from years I was the weak, powerless child, terrorized by an all-powerful, violent Dad?

If anything, my rage increases.

I tell myself, Dad is sober now. He made his amends to you months ago.(Actually he felt so bad he made them twice.)
This has no effect.

Finally, at wit's end, I try praying, “God,I turn my life and my will over to you. Show me how you want me to be.”

Suddenly my hand reaches over and pats dad on the knee. I find myself saying, “You know, you’re the best dad in the whole world.” I’m not putting on, it’s exactly how I feel. With no effort or thought on my part, all my rage has simply evaporated.

Dad looks surprised. He says, “Well, thank you. I think you’re the best daughter.” With this, he pulls into our driveway in plenty of time for what turns out to be the best party ever.