Diana and Julie Winer
It is hard for me to believe that it has been almost 18 years since my father (Julie) passed on to spirit. Yet, every Father’s Day I get a bit teary-eyed and have a pang in my solar plexus that reminds me he is gone.
For the ancient Egyptians, Geb, the earth god, was the father of the gods and represented abundance and authority, while in the Celtic tradition Daghda was honored as the father god. The Greek “father of the gods,” Zeus, had a dual nature. As the father of many children, he could be protective and generous, sewing the fetus Dionysus into his own thigh and carrying him until he could be born. Yet his dark side was one of intimidation and harshness — lashing out at his children whenever he was frustrated.
So what happens on Father’s Day when your memories are mixed? Our father’s give us a basic model for living our lives- both good and bad- unless we consciously change the patterns. My father was a product of his family and generation. He lived with many “shoulds” and passed them on to me and my brother. Although he was a very successful self-made businessman, he never shared any of his knowledge with me -after all I was a girl and was supposed to marry a rich man who would take care of me.
Well that didn’t happen. I am smart enough (and have had enough therapy and spiritual teachers) to know that he did the best he could with the resources he had. I have done many rituals to release my pain and sadness of not having a father who supported me emotionally. It has been a long process, and well worth it.
My brother Mark, on the other hand, models the new masculine and has taken on the role of nurturer and teacher to his daughter Shayla. He has very few “have tos” and has plenty of “want tos”. Shayla is growing up with a new model of a father: someone who simply does what needs to be done without worrying about gender roles.
This Sunday l personally will be lighting a candle for my father, letting myself feel the sadness of his passing and the regrets of what could have been. To honor his memory I always like to eat one of his favorite foods. This year it may be Chinese soup or a piece of Halvah. I plan on writing down a list of what I learned from him and what qualities I want to claim as my own. After all it is my inheritance.
Whatever you decide to do for this holiday, enjoy the celebration and the men you cherish. As my brother Mark, a father of three, so wisely said to me, “The best present for me is always feeling loved and included and appreciated. Gifts are quite secondary.”
