Posted by: Paulette
I arrived with more gifts in hand on day four. This was going to be the last day in New Mexico before I had to drive home. I laid out some colored pencils, graphite pencils, a couple of different kinds of erasers, a large sketch pad and a durable pencil sharpener on the bed.
And then I remembered that Paul couldn't see well enough to draw, because he didn't have any glasses, so I picked up the stuff and started a portrait. I've never been very good with drawing from life, and drawing profiles, but on this day my artistic abilities were up for the challenge. As I began sketching, a couple of Paul's friends showed up. As they played catch up I couldn't help but think how blessed my life has been. One of their female friends died of a heart attack brought on by domestic abuse at 38. Such a tragedy. I'm only 10 years younger than that!
As I mentioned before drawing from life is not my favorite thing to do, and my model kept moving around. Just as I was sketching his ear, he'd place his hand on his head and his arm would obsure his ear.
"Hey. I'm drawing your ear, can you move your arm? I can't see," I complained.
"Well, just add it in there then!" was his reply
There was a lot of teasing going on. At one point, referring to a conversation we'd had 15 years before, he told me that the drawing would look more like him if I'd stood on my head. Sometimes when drawing a portrait, if you turn the subject upside down, it becomes an object and you're less likely to draw an idealized subject.
As I drew, I mentioned that my favorite part of a portrait are the eyes. My father told me that he'd always had difficulty with drawing eyes. I told him that I thought that it was because he doesn't look people in the eye when he's speaking to them. He told me he had a great amount of guilt, and that almost everyone he knows has knowledge of something stupid that he's done.
Guilt is a heavy burden to carry all of your life. I believe that through the atonement of Jesus Christ, we are able to repent and that burden is lifted. I told him this.
I finished the portrait, and gave it to Paul. He was surprised that I didn't want to keep it. The whole time I was drawing, he said that it didn't look like him.
I think that my perception of him came through in the picture. I hope that he'll be able to see that.
All too soon it was time for me to leave. My uncle handed me an envelope containing some money, and I thanked Paul for it, and kissed him good bye.
Since my returning home, I've called him twice in a week. He's in a recuperation room today, and is able to sit on the side of the bed. I have hopes that he is getting better. We've spoken about favorite foods, trips to Mexico, and parenting. Every day, I feel as though I am making a new friend. I've invited him and Ellie for a visit, when he gets well enough to travel. I hope that this dream for the future will help him heal, and feel happier. There was no complaining today! Amazing!
Posted by: Paulette
A few months ago I blogged about my biological father who I contacted after searching for him on the internet. I found him through his brother, who gave me a phone number. After a few discouraging phone calls, and a feeling that my father wasn't really interested in a familial relationship, I stopped calling him. He called me one, when I accidentally called him in error, and he saw a missed call. So all together we had 3 phone conversations.
Last Monday, I received a call from his brother that went something like this. "Is this Paulette?"
"yes."
"This is uncle David. It doesn't look too good. Your father has been in the ICU for 2 weeks and they've just moved him to hospice."
" What happened?"
"He's had 2 heart attacks and a stroke."
From there we discussed how and when I could make it to the city where he lived, which is about an 8 hour drive. The flights were too expensive, so I decided to rent a car, and drive. I made the reservations, and left 2 days later after getting all of my personal affairs into order.
I arrived on Wednesday evening. My father didn't want to look at me, much less talk to me. I sat on the bed, held his hand and asked him why he thought I was there. He indicated that he thought that I was going to wag my finger at him and take his money. After speaking with him for two hours, I left with his brother for some dinner. We spoke, and found common ground. He wanted me to know that as next of kin, I had a responsibility for my father's personal effects.
This was overwhelming for me, since I thought I was only there to put his mind at ease and hold his hand, and when the time came, kiss him goodbye.
I returned to the hospital without my uncle and told my father that I had a few things to say.
#1 I no longer carried the shame and embarrassment of having a drug abuser for a father.
#2 I thanked him for leaving myself and sister alone to be raised by our mother and step-father. We had a good life. I was thankful for his sacrifice.
#3 That we both agreed that the drug abuse was stupid and that he was now paying for it in a destroyed body.
That was all in the past, and we would start from today. He seemed relieved. I stayed with him until 10pm that night and then went to my grandmother's house to stay the night.
All night long I had dreams about him. They were about what kind of man he could have been without the drugs. I think these dreams were a gift from my Heavenly Father to help me see how precious my father was to him. And that He saw him though different eyes.
