12 - Multiplication

A full circle moment today when my father tried to teach my eldest how to easily multiply any number by 11, after she tried to -lol- stump him with 9 times 12. That's one trick he taught me when I was a child, and always a good one. Times eleven was definitely not in the context of what day of the Omer it was today; sitting outside enjoying the weather, I was guiding an intergenerational getting-to-know-each-other-better game.

Math quizzes were a daily “oh Dad!” annoyance at my childhood dinner table, also the extent of conversation. My dad wasn't the most skilled at relating to growing daughters, but he certainly has changed a lot since I was young. For one thing, several years ago he started to make an effort. Recent conversations make it clear that he has done his work, thought deeply about himself, and that he loves and feels deeply. I've come to believe people can change, at least behavioral patterns, when they learn more about themselves and their tendencies during good times and bad.

Anger is an issue here, one that I don't deny permeated my childhood. And he wouldn't deny that it is a lingering issue for him, especially in relation to family. Even in my college angst days when I carried a lot of anger for my father, I would acknowledge that he taught me valuable math skills and trained my mind for logical and analytical thinking. Dad showed me how to use an imaginary black board in my head to do math problems, a visualization ability that later came in handy when learning to drive. After one time behind the wheel of our stick-shift red Honda Prelude I went to bed and imagined each step. Next day I was driving like I had lots of experience.

Isn't it so interesting that I can't even finish a paragraph about anger with anger? As my friend Nikki would say, I LOOOVVVVVE IT! There was a lot of anger, past tense, but not anymore. In college I expressed my anger and demanded his apology for past hurts. In young adulthood I accepted the limitations of our relationship, mourned them and tried to accept it.

One of the many gifts of my relationship with my husband is his encouragement to really fulfill the mitzvah of honoring my father. At the start I resented him pushing me to call more, couldn't understand why Jeff wanted to pick Dad up from the airport and drive him around all day, thought he should leave well enough alone, or just leave me alone on this issue. One day I'll write more about it, for now simply stated I'm grateful for his influence. Bit by bit I started seeing my dad differently, understanding his challenges and appreciating his efforts.

During my twenty-four hour trip to Florida to bring my Dad back to Chicago for treatment he needed to know that I wasn't still mad at him. I hugged him and said “I forgive you Dad.” It was true and complete.

Only six years ago when Dad was coming to Chicago for some occasion I set a 3 day boundary on his stay in my home. Now I welcome him into our home. He is living with us indefinitely and it is a gift. As he said, there is a silver lining to his illness, that is spending time getting to know his grandchildren, and also trying to know us, his children. There is only love and affection with us and our children. Seeing our girls run up to their Saba (Grandfather in Hebrew) with open arms is precious and watching him teach them tricks is a treat I will always treasure.

Today was day 11 of the Omer.
Tonight is the 12th day of the Omer, which is one week and five days.


For you: Think of someone you need to forgive, or have already forgiven. What tricks and teachings did they gift you? What positive things were part of the relationship? How can you forgive the rest? If appropriate, can you continue to grow the relationship? If the relationship is over, can you let it go with love, cherishing the gifts and learning from the hurts? How can you just let it go? Decide to forgive, say the words, and let your heart follow.