Falling Father, Falling Daughter


The right disaster comes
at the right moment
to break us open to the helplessness
that an opening of the heart requires.

-Coleman Barks

It has been three months since I have been home to see my father.  I have been busy living my own cluttered life two hours away.  Thursday afternoon, when he wakes from his nap to find me there in his living room, I am familiar; there is recognition in his eyes, but also blurriness.  “Who’s this?” he asks.

 “Honey, it’s Mary Ann, your daughter.”   This is a weird, unwelcome feeling, to be not fully known by him. 

Mary Ann Stratton grew up the youngest of six children on a small farm in southern Colorado where her father was a state veterinarian. She is currently living in Denver, Colorado where she teaches middle school Language Arts. This article was originally published in the San Diego Psychologist.

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