Beware the ides of March! They are soon to be upon us.
My bro Bill Shakespeare used the ominous-sounding 'ides of March' as an ominous warning spoken by a Soothsayer to Julius Caesar, who was alluding to the emperor's impending death on March 15.
According to Wikipedia, the ides of March is simply the mark of a full moon in March. I beg to differ, mostly because I'm a nerd and love my Shakespeare, but also because March kind of freaks me out. It's such a transitional month. Everything is dead and frozen, with snow occasionally thawing if we Minnesotans are lucky enough. The grass wants to break free and the trees have had enough of being naked. March is a waiting game. An in between stage.
My dad tried to kill himself on the first day of March. Over 3 1/2 hours he stood atop the Holiday Inn parking ramp in downtown Duluth, threatening to jump. The same place I had stayed when I first visited Duluth with my parents.
I can't believe it's been a year since I received that phone call from the Duluth police. I had the day off from work and had just come home from a run when I heard my phone ringing.
When the police officer spoke into the phone, giving me the gruesome details, I couldn't move. I didn't have anything to say. This wasn't my dad's first attempt. In fact, there had been about 4 serious attempts in the past few years. This time was different, though. This time I really didn't see it coming.
After his psychotic break 4 years prior to the March 1 incident in Duluth, he had been in and out of ambulances, hospitals, psych wards and group homes. He had a literal suicide attempt smorgasbord in his history: slitting his throat & wrists, taking himself off all his medication, getting frostbite and nearly losing all his fingers, and even getting a hotel room where he planned to jump off the parking ramp of the Mall of America (thanks to the police department, he never made it up there and was caught in his hotel room, emaciated and going through major withdrawal).
Since then, he'd made progress. I took him to court to have him legally committed. It worked.
On this particular March day, however, he was given a day pass at his group home. His attitude seemed on the up and up during that time, so it certainly wasn't what I expected.
The article on what happened, as well as a statement from me can be found HERE. They sum it up better than I do.
Obviously, my dad lived. I cut off all contact for months. I was so angry and so bruised. I started writing a book about him and stopped. I wasn't ready.
We're now speaking again and I see him once every 4-6 months or so. His attitude seems improved most of the time, and the man who saved his life, Chuck, has now taken him under his wing.
In fact, Chuck left me a voicemail last night asking if I'd be willing to meet for lunch every now and again to see my dad, since I haven't in about 4 months.
On paper that sounds like a great idea, but I haven't finished processing this yet. Seeing my father is much different than having a phone conversation with him.
When I see him now, he's a ghost of himself. He collapses on me and has a face full of tears. This was a man who I never saw cry once growing up and he rarely told me he loved me. Now he can't stop saying it. I can't tell if it's genuine emotion, out of guilt, or both. Either way, it's a lot to digest.
My dad has always been like my brother more than my parent, and that remains true today.
I'm working a lot on taking care of myself right now, about mindfulness and general Buddhist meditation theory and practices. I still have a lot to learn, but what I have learned is this: to have a compassionate relationship with my father, I have to be compassionate with myself as well as patient. This is going to take some time.
So, mediation and the memoir are going to be my tools. It's time to really deal with this. I think I'm ready now.
