What Good May Come Of It-A Father's Legacy

There is no delicate way of saying this.

My father was a crook.

And a recent reunion of 3 of his 6 children from 5 different mothers sparked a conversation about his life and how sad it was that such an apparently brilliant man wasted his intelligence and skills on a life of crime.

As a Shaman, I appreciate the lessons that we come to this Earth to learn when it comes to the larger picture.  I understand that, in Spiritual terms, my father's existence provides lessons and experiences that are unique to his children and what we do with those lessons helps us to realize who we are.  For that, at least, I am forever grateful to the man and his spirit for being there to teach me that.
Yeah.
Sure.
Right.
;)

But it seemed, on another, more "Earthy" and In-Your-Face level, to be such a sad waste of talent and potential for him to have gone the way he did.  My awareness of the "bigger picture" did little to soothe the hurt feelings of the 3 year old child inside me who became aware that there was something "different" about my history with respect to other children.  What my family avoided speaking about told me much more than the short, terse answers I got when I was old enough to start asking difficult questions.  It's hard not to assume that this somehow reflects on your worth as a person; especially for a child.
The mothers of his children have a particular point of view concerning their experiences with my father, and their opinions are, shall we say, less than complementary.
Before I met these men, my brothers, I was resigned to incorporate this vibration into my own being, and thought I had made peace with it all.  But as we chatted easily together, it became apparent that there might be a connection that transcended the common pain and chaos our father had caused for each of us.  As we exchanged the bits of knowledge that we had, and discovered more about this man, we slowly discovered things about each other that provided a different picture.

From my brother Joe, I learned that my father painted and had considered attending art school at one time.  Painting is a skill I discovered for myself only recently- it surprised me more than anyone, but it made sense to me that somehow I may have inherited this unknown talent in part from my father.

From my brother James, we learned that my father had studied law and became a paralegal while still incarcerated.  My brother James certainly inherited this practical intelligence and became a successful businessman who left a steady job to strike out on his own.  In the middle of a recession, he used his skills and knowledge as an engineer to build his own branch of an international company. He had the flexibility to accept and appreciate his two sons for the exceptional individuals they are, and they have flourished. 

Out of the 6 of us, Joe spent the longest time with our father in his life, and though he had more of a negative example, he turned it around and took away important lessons concerning family and responsibility.  He works hard providing for his 3 daughters in a way that our father never did.  He channeled his anger into martial arts, and is still well-remembered in relevant circles as a talented Thai Kick-boxer and instructor.  Joe balanced his physical existence with a deeply Spiritual side.  He takes pride in that, and so do the rest of us.

Though I do not know them as well, I can see that my father's legacy was not limited to the three of us.  My sister Marjory has a sense of aesthetic that rivals the most experienced interior designer.  She built a beautiful home for her family.
My sister Alicia, however, inherited our father's temper.  But, instead of turning those feelings into negative actions, she developed a sense of justice and outspokenness that we all admired.  Unfortunately, she passed away before I could meet her in person, but we did speak often by phone.  We both worked hard to put ourselves through school and we shared stories about those challenges.  Of all of us, it was Alicia who was able to stand up to our father and tell him in no uncertain terms just what she thought of him.  And though we may have cringed a little on the outside when she did it, inside we were all cheering her on for doing what we all wish we had the guts to do for ourselves. 

Of the 6, I know the least about George, who lives a quiet life in the mid-west with his wife and children.  He doesn't seem to feel the need to put what happened in perspective, nor does he seem to spend a lot of time soul-searching and sharing his experiences with the rest of his siblings.  Maybe our father, who was a poor Cuban immigrant, did what he did on some level in order to fit in with his ideal of the rich, successful American. Of course, what we do, we do because we think that it will make us happy, and it seems that, out of all of us, George has come the closest to realizing the kind of life that our father wanted.   George seems happy.  Without the glamor, without the glitz and showy possessions; he is happy.
Perhaps that's the greatest gift of all.

Looking at all of us through the lens of greater understanding, my brothers James and Joe and I realized that our father's life may not have been as much of a waste as we had thought.  Though there are many holes in the story that may never be filled in, we know that in terms of his children at least, there was a positive outcome to my father's existence.
I can know who I am, and be proud of who I am.  Partially because of it all, and admittedly partially in spite of it all-but nonetheless; proud of all of who I am; the negative and the positive.
And I have a great family.
I've said that before.
But until now I've never been able to say this;
Thanks, Dad.