The Unpleasant

This is a morning in a year that I don’t like to remember. Papa passed away on this date fourteen years ago. Feeling the morning, I feel sorry for Mama more, to lose partner of 32 years then. Her way of sharing me the news that morning is still fresh in mind. She told me like she shared about her closest neighbor had just passed away. I know she suppressed her deep feeling. It touched me when she said her sorry for not letting me come that weekend to visit not-so-well Papa. I found myself suppressing my feeling at the same time. We both ‘survived’ of not amplifying our sorrow.

I read Tanonaka’s letter to his nine-year old daughter in the Jakarta Post Weekender (see below) for the fourth time this morning. I cried for him, and for all parents and kids in the world who have to suppress their feeling of loss because of a broken husband-wife relationship. My! So many things in life we (or I) have to suppress in order to continue life with lighter feeling.

I’m writing this piece with light heart. No hard feeling. I feel blessed that I’m (often) able to separate sorrow (in my perception) and real life. Regretting, longing, hurting are all part of my way to face this, some times, unpleasant world. I’m becoming better in dealing with the unpleasant.

Yesterday a good friend shared me through online chat how he is still learning to fill in the unbalanced part of his life. He thought the unbalanced makes us creative and blooming. He is now in a small city in German doing research for months, leaving wife and four kids behind. Ramadhan is still on and Eid is coming in two weeks – family time. With rumors as part of office politic back home, he is happy to be able to push himself off his comfortable zone in the university where he has such a position.

He is one of the successful persons in dealing with life. Last night I got an email from my art-blog fan in Portugal. She has authentic, beautiful, amazing collage – manual and digital. Since we became pen-pal last year, I got a glimpse that she is not happy with her life. She keeps telling me how hard life is as her art doesn’t sell well, she runs empty that even she has to cut internet and other costs. I feel sorry for her since I believe in The Secret. If she keeps amplifying her sorrow, how can she attract positive energy to help her out? I don’t know how to tell her this, we are not close enough as friends, but I truly feel her feeling.

Aha.. enough for sorrow part. I still have more! No. I just feel a bit sad realizing that today is my last day in Ubud and I could only see Ubud again in almost three weeks time. I shall not regret my time off Ubud since I’m going to see Mama, and that would be in my home town, for seven days a week from now, and be in Jakarta a week before and after for my errands and good friends! Nothing to feel bad about. I feel good!

I enjoyed my last day in silence. I stay home creating necklaces for gifts while listening to my surrounding: the building crews who some times shout a takbir as they might long for Eid in home town, the weekly lawn mower in operation somewhere near, the buzzing bees visiting my room, the tile-cutter from the project, and of course the summer insects who make noise only on day with sun. So pleasant…

Photo of Balinese holy vehicle to put body in cremation.
____________________________

Letter From a Divorced Dad

My dear daughter:

You just finished your first visit with me since your mom and I got divorced. I enjoyed every moment being with you again, especially where I live now in Indonesia.

At first, you said you didn't want to come here, begging me not to make you get on the plane heading from Tokyo to Jakarta.

"Daddy, I promise, I promise to always answer your phone calls and write you long e-mails if we don't go to Jakarta! Please!" you pleaded the night before our flight.

Trying to make sense of your fears - you being a fairly well-travelled nine-year-old - I asked you calmly:

"If you can give me one good reason why you shouldn't come visit me where I live, then we'll discuss it."

"Mommy said there are poison ice cubes in Indonesia."

Oh.

"Dior, sweetheart," I said as evenly as I could, "there are some places where you could get sick because of ice cubes, but we definitely won't go to those places, OK?”

And with that, I think I passed my first test as a newly divorced dad, and we began a two-week learning process that parents and children throughout the world must deal with much too often.

It would also be the first chance for you and I to talk about the break-up of our family, and for me to gauge the impact of that decision on my only child.

It's wise, I believe, to educate our children about the real-life conflicts that cause divorce. But we must also insulate them from the fallout from a broken husband-wife relationship.

It's our problem, not yours.

If you remember, I jumped in right after takeoff from Narita.

"You know that I love you, even though we're not living together as a family, right?"

"Yes."

"You know that I'll always be your dad, no matter what happens, right?"

"Yeah. But…"

"But what?"

"But you didn't cry when we said goodbye."

That stopped me cold. Though more than a year before, I still clearly remembered the moment just before you stepped out of view at the Honolulu airport gate heading to live with mom.

Never a cry-baby, you took one last look back at me, your eyes flooded with tears.

That broke my already torn heart. I swore right then I'd do everything I could to never have to see that look on your face again.

I had your Indonesian summer vacation all mapped out. Your first day would be spent at the Taman Safari wildlife park in Bogor, where you would immediately be confronted by hungry caribou and curious deer nuzzling our car window.

"Do you know that a giraffe's tongue is blue?" you asked matter-of-factly as we rolled up to the long-necked animal's sanctuary.

"Wow, it is blue!" said your long-out-of-school father.

The next night was a colleague's wedding, and though both of us had never quite seen such a luxurious affair - five-star food and video being shot from every angle - your summary at the end of the party was "I was a bit bored".

And I knew why. You can only spend so much time with someone old enough to be your dad. Even if it is your dad. So I asked my basketball buddy Sandiaga to bring his two girls along to our regular Saturday morning pickup game the next day.

It looked like you were having fun. While dad huffed and puffed up and down the court, you played with new friends Atheera and Amyra, learning some new words in the process.

"Terima kasih!" you offered as you waved goodbye.

As the days passed, the wall that time and distance had built between us would fall. A plan to take a quick jaunt to Bali was first met with familiar resistance. But once on the ground and in the massive hotel pool on Jimbaran Bay, it was all good, yah?

A drop-in to the Jakarta International School back in the big city completed a successful schedule of activities mapped out by dad. In fact, upon pickup the first words out of your mouth were "Can I come again tomorrow?"

I could feel, finally, that I had my little girl back, even though you were leaving the next day.

"Do you want to go to Hawaii or come back here on your next vacation with me?" I asked as you began to nod off in your bed.

"Umm… maybe here," you replied.

That was good enough for me. It capped a period of the easing of deep concerns, such as what your mother tells you about your long-distance dad, and whether you had adjusted well to your new surroundings and living situation.

Though you had already fallen asleep, I said one more thing to you.

You may not have seen any tears when we first said goodbye, but I cried inside for a long time after.

I love you,

Dad

Hawaii native Dalton Tanonaka is the co-anchor of Metro TV’s Indonesia Now program, seen on Saturday mornings at 7 a.m. and Sundays at 5:30 p.m. He can be reached at dalton@metrotvnews.com.