“McLAUGHLIN, Gord - On Sunday, November 21, 2010, at his home, in his 67th year. Gord is survived by his brother Roger McLaughlin and his sister Marnie McLaughlin. Gord was a Vietnam veteran as he was SSGT. with the U.S.M.C., he was a past member of Links of Niagara Golf Course, and will be sadly missed by his best golfing buddy Dennis Dumont. SIMPLER TIMES CREMATION CENTRE have been entrusted with the arrangements for Mr. McLaughlin. In keeping with his wishes a private graveside service has taken place. Memorial remembrances made to the Royal Canadian Legion Poppy Fund would be appreciated.”
Yesterday I received the above news about Gord McLaughlin.
He was my biological father.
I hardly knew him.
Despite wishes to the contrary, and an attempt to connect on my part that turned only into disappointment sided with some heartbreak for the effort. The finality of death means that questions remain unanswered yet must now find their own solutions. A part of my being whose roots I grew from, I cannot now ask certain reasons for. These are things and moments that shape our character, our lives and our perspectives on life. They have shaped mine. Anger and sadness interchange now for the lead role in my mind as I ask myself many questions, all held with the current response of “Why?” More to write about I suppose. I am thankful for music and its therapeutic abilities that I will lean on now, as I have before. I am always helped whenever able to turn emotion into sound. Music and writing, to me, are the simplest and most truthful forms of communication when used as a method to honestly confront feelings that need to be. If I write simply and honestly about what I feel, then I have begun to face those feelings. I find this a great way to discover more about one’s self; where we stand on values, decisions made or to be made, and/or any questions we need to be asking introspectively. This news has forced me to do just that; to write about it in order to be honest about what I’m thinking in respect to this, and to ask myself the questions I need to ask so I can find my own answers. So I will ask what I must, and seek out that that is the truest.
I am repeatedly drawn to the line in the obit that reads “sadly missed by his best golfing buddy Dennis Dumont.” A certain sadness resides in that sentence. What to make of such a statement? No mention of your children (biological or otherwise,) strikes me in many ways.
When I was a young man in my early twenties I reached out to you without judgment, criticism or comment on your long absence from my life. We met then, and after all those years you told me how you had missed me and how you would like to be a part of my life again. I agreed despite my fears because I wanted to know who my father was. You called me “son” as I said good-bye and I was left with an imagination full of possible future moments, of a chance to find out more of where I come from, of talking of times missed, of planning for times ahead. I was left to believe things would be different from that point forward. You never called again despite your promise. I hope your golfing buddy filled whatever void that empty promise may have left. Nothing filled the void I felt for many years, and now that opportunity, and yours is gone...
…as is mine.
I give myself permission to feel this way because it is the way I feel. I am angry and disappointed. I am sad and confused. Fathers, love your children.
I will say good-bye because good-bye is all that is left. In my way I will miss you. I wonder if you have missed me too, from time to time.
And I write because I have to, because it is my way of healing and working through what life has placed upon my plate.
