Papa Trilogy – Part 3
What keeps us in Life?
When I am 14, my father speaks the following words to me – I will never forget, still remember the exact spot in our living room, the light of the sunny afternoon pouring in: “If it were not for you kids, I would not be alive.“ It is just the two of us. A thunder clap shakes me awake, I start to tremble, and finally understand to my relief the huge weight I have been experiencing since early childhood, the huge love.
Born in München in 1953, into poverty, I am the first child; my parents unwedded. Still “shell-shocked” from war and displacement. Becoming a father, wakes Papa up over the next few years, slowly he starts to emerge out of a deep suicidal depression. My brother, arriving 11 months after me, is given to the grandparents in East Germany – across the military border. They have a fruit & vegetable garden, chickens, and therefore food. Three years later my parents succeed to take my well-fed brother back.
This is how trauma and war are handed down generations. We, the children, want to heal our parents, out of love. Papa was the gentlest man ever, calm and composed. Very unlike most fathers of other kids I met. I felt lucky. Certain things Papa could never do again, no war movies, no horror stories, he was a complete pacifist, peace activist. Since childhood, the memories of his hands trembling when under stress, are etched into my heart. Papa was loved at work, at home, with friends, wherever he went, all his life. His destiny was stark and he met it with courage – I bow to his spirit. These days, I am truly glad that Papa and Mama, both gone, don’t have to witness the new war in Europe. What are we going to learn from it? Many more hundreds of thousands of soldiers – left with no good choices – utterly devasted with external and deep inner moral injuries. Countless children will have countless stories to tell for decades to come, working through the mine fields, literally and metaphorically. Perhaps sometimes the wounds will turn into turquoise, or moss, flowers, trees, fountains of healing…. inner strength….
I am telling this part of my father’s story for all young soldiers worldwide, and the Russian and Ukrainian soldiers, so close to where I grew up. May all soldiers – no matter from which side – find peace and healing. May there be times when we have no need for soldiers and civilians as fodder for War of the powers-to-be. May there be times when we cherish and honor the ordinary brave wise warriors and heroines of all kind who know the Art of Keeping Balance & Peace & Justice, who know to practice Living with an open Heart.
Comments
It's so important for these stories to be told, to be heard, to be remembered...you & I have often talked about how sanitized history has been specifically in school's across the "united states". Information, facts, and dates do not imprint themselves the same way as a storytelling does. When memories are shared with feelings, textures, smells, sounds, sensations, or emotions, we empathize, embody the experience as we read or listen & imagine.
As I read experiences of your father, it reminded me of the stories, glimpses, & memories I've pieced together of my grandparents (Lolo & Lola, Grandpa & Grandma) in the Philippines during World War II. Stories that my mom has shared, stories that have slipped from aunties, or stories I've asked for. My Lola, pregnant at the time, hiding in the mountains in caves with other villagers, eventually giving birth to my auntie/tita in one of those caves. My Lolo walking home from work backwards so that in case someone followed his footsteps they'd hopefully track in the other direction.
I feel like knowing these stories makes me move differently in the world than if I didn't know them. Same as when I learn the stories from your family and others...how can we not feel responsibility in how we move forward with this knowledge? to move with empathy & compassion...to care about what's happening to people across the ocean, to people on the other side of the planet, to care about people in our neighborhoods, even if we don't know each other... to wish that horrors, torture, fear & tragedies generations before us experienced will never happen again...to rise up when injustices are happening around you...