A reflection on love scarcity

I will never forget that call, the first of many calls that I wish were just bad dreams. Dad was in the ER, his organs were failing. The doctors were trying to figure out what was wrong. In the wake of my immigration rollercoaster, I have developed an incessant fear of things happening outside of my scope but this was beyond my nightmares.

Dad tried to shelter me as he fought for his life like no other. Even on his deathbed dad continued to try and protect me. He managed to ban the hospital from disclosing information to me that would scare me or sway my decision to come home. He did not want me to sacrifice the life I’ve built in America. In our last conversation dad was only concerned about how I was ‘holding up’. At his core he was a defender, a fighter with equal amounts fire and integrity. It breaks my heart that much of my time spent with him was wasted on arguing about trivial differences in opinion. I often chose being right over being at peace. But at his core, my father was a free spirit with a childlike heart.

Dad played the role of the referee in much of my life. When it came down to what actually mattered he was wise, fair and had a deep sense of empathy. From as long as I can remember, he would tell me to not let weak people take my power. And he’d also not sugar coat my faults when I was in my ego. When things got tough, he taught me to be brave but empathetic. And when things got too hard, which they often did at my home growing up, dad would be waiting in his car in the laneway for me. He was always there no matter how uncomfortable or inconvenient it was to hold space. I don’t know where I’d be today without those car rides with him.

My aunt recently told me a story in the wake of his passing. When I was four, I was swinging on a swing and was laughing with pure joy. She asked me why I was so happy, and for no particular reason I told her it was because I had three dad’s- daddy Greg, daddy Dan and God. I have been thinking lately about an idea I’m calling love scarcity. To me, Love Scarcity is a learned feeling that there’s quotas on love. That if you fully show love for one person, it will make the other feel less loved- so you hold back. In my case it was love scarcity between my fathers. To no fault of his own, over time I developed a fear that I would demean my step-father who I lived with by acknowledging Greg as my ‘real’ father. It’s a shame that we can lose our childhood idealism and wisdom when we are influenced and unintentionally shamed for loving as we want to.

During the worst of this, I remember I was about ten years old and dad came to pick me up on his visitation day. I refused to get in his car. He came the next week and I refused. I can’t remember how many weeks he would roll up to my laneway and I’d protest getting into his car. But dad never gave up on having a relationship with me. He’d just wait in the laneway until one day I came back in. The thought of my dad driving home, rejected, breaks me today on the deepest level.

I’m mentioning this story as it speaks to who my father was. A man that always showed strength in the face of pain, on all levels. Despite the deep rejection he must have felt, dad had the fortitude to keep on coming back. My dad was the king of unconditional love. In his life, in so many ways, he has taught me what it is to love fully without needing anything back.

I fear that dad didn’t know how great of a father I actually thought he was. I wonder if my dad thought I didn’t accept him fully. A feeling I’ve also grappled with. Although I know he was proud, he didn’t care what I did, who I know or why. He just loved me infinitely, like the joyful four year old I was on that swing. A love like that is the rarest and most pure kind of love there is. And with this, despite the massive void I’m feeling, I hope to continue to love brave like dad and carry on his legacy. In the words of Jack Karouac, “I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.’

May the best of him live in all of us.

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