248. Have You Called Your Father Today? - Sol Guy
In my memory, I called my father often when he was alive. I called him even more after he was gone. In both cases, he always answered, always listened intently, and offered me guidance that felt timeless.
I miss calling my father. I used to call him in the early mornings and late at night. I used to call him from police stations looking for a ride. I used to call him to share my ideas and see if he would support them. Sometimes, I would call just to hear his voice. In my memory, I called my father often when he was alive. I called him even more after he was gone. In both cases, he always answered, always listened intently, and offered me guidance that felt timeless. It took me a long time to hear the wisdom tucked between the silences in his responses, and even longer to hear his voice after he died.
It’s been more than twenty years since my father passed, and it took almost that long for me to start calling him, to start listening to him again. I made a film about my family called The Death of My Two Fathers, based on the VHS tapes my father recorded in the last year of his life. In the film there’s a line that says, “What we don’t heal, what we don’t confront, we pass on.” It’s only in hindsight that I realize how many of my choices mirrored the choices of my father. The things I did not confront, I relived.
However, life is not just linear, so when I look at my father now, I see a complex man—a man who lived and loved hard. A man who had five children with three women over the course of his life. But each time he became a father, he was a different man, a growing man, a more refined version of himself. It reminds me of a quote from the mystics that says, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river, and he's not the same man.”
I often wish he were around so I could ask him how being a father changed for him over time. In many ways my conversations with my father continue into the liminal space, between life and death, through the vehicle of my memories and imagination. Today, I ask you to lean into love, to feel your feelings, and to take your chance to say what’s on your heart. Did you call your father today?
- Sol Guy
