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Shelly McNamara

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Choose Love

Regret

June 10, 2017 By Shelly McNamara

I am the daughter of a man, a father, who lived a lifetime of regret.

A victim of World War II ? A victim of his own decision to drink each day? A victim of a society and culture that lacked the insight for how to treat alcoholism? Maybe a bit of all those things. I don’t know.

What I do know is that he walked out on us when I was just four years old. He left me, – my six brothers, and seven sisters. He left my mother. I’d like to say that there was anger or disappointment about his leaving, but there wasn’t. In fact, the feeling I recall most present in our home was relief. Relief that this abusive, raging alcoholic had walked out. Leaving us was the best choice he could have made. I am glad he made that choice.

I remember my childhood home so clearly. There were three entrances to the house – a front, back, and side door entrance. The side door connected you to four stairs that led to the kitchen. It was easy to go unnoticed when you entered this door. It was distant, and separate from the busy parts of the home – the living and family rooms.

It was through this door – the side door – that my father entered the last time I saw him.

It was the last time I would see or hug him for seventeen years. I was just four years old on this his last visit, and my brother Tom was just six years old. We both ran to greet him. I gave him a big hug. I remember that. The rest of my siblings seemed to vanish minutes before his arrival. Mom sat anxiously waiting in the living room, alone.

The next hug came after his visit to the racetrack and his massive heart attack. The priest gave him his last rights, believing he was transitioning to the other side. My brothers and sisters went to his bedside to see him. I was away at college and did not make it to the hospital. It turns out that this wasn’t his time to transition.

I came home from school to see him. I was now 21 years old. It was like meeting my father for the first time. I was a young adult. I was a college student at an outstanding university. My life was expanding. His life was crumbling, and nearing the end. To me, he was “The Mystery Man”. I stood before him trying to make sense of that day, and all of the years that had past since that “final visit” so many years earlier. And so I wrote …

The Mystery Man
Now seeing the mystery man
Hardly mentioned, spoken, or heard of
The mythical man not to be seen

Today, here and now looking into your saddened eyes
Pain wells up inside me – I dare to breathe

To recreate a past of twenty years
To tell you of the thousand times I asked myself – why?

Now I see the pain and the tears
Held so tightly within this God-sent woman – my mother

How to view, name, or call one a father?

I had my questions for him, but his frailty and extreme vulnerability kept most of my questions unspoken. I did know that he wasn’t deserving of the title “father”. His absence made this name meaningless, and disconnected from him. I would not grant him that title. He had not earned that privilege. The deep pain in his eyes left me wondering … is it time to forgive? And so I wrote…

Is it Time to Forgive?
How do you say goodbye
To someone you never knew
Never saw
Never loved

How do you forgive someone
Who never apologized
For the pain
The suffering
The absence
The pain

How do you learn
To trust again

Once they walk out on you
The pain stays
Trust impossible to find

Dear father you left a void
A chasm no one could ever fill

Do you need me to forgive and say goodbye?
Or do I?

I saw my father only a few more times that year, his final year on earth, my final year of college. I didn’t find answers. He didn’t find peace. We didn’t recreate family, or fill the void left by his many years of absence. When he passed away I was sad — more for what we never had, than what we had and lost. We never had the chance to experience life together, so he remained a “Mystery Man” to me. I remained distant, and unknown to him.

I did forgive him. Following his death, I discovered a poem that my father had written. Given the passion I had to write, maybe we were connected in ways I couldn’t understand. And so HE wrote…

Hope (by Bernard McNamara)
The leaves will soon be
On the trees outside my window

The snow in the background
Does not change my view

Of belief in a Hope of Springtime
And Hope of Springtime Change

A Hope and Prayer for forgiveness
From all the people I have hurt
Without intent

Now with hope Spring is here
Soon I hope

My hope is that he forgave himself – for leaving the family he created – from choosing a drink over lasting relationships. I hope for him that he learned, forgave, and left this earth with some peace. He taught me how I didn’t want my life to be. I would choose better. I would be free and live free. I would love and be loved. I would not run away from myself or others. I would choose love.

I also learned what regret looked like, felt like. I began to realize that I had not been abandoned. So often the story of regret is followed by a story of redemption. My story was no different. It wasn’t my father who redeemed himself. It was my brothers and sisters who stepped in to redeem their father, and provide unconditional love and support for their baby sister! And so I wrote…

Dear Brother – Dear Sister
Thank you for stepping in
For giving love
And safety

No one could know
The pain
The void
The loss

Felt only when
A parent walks
Out on you

The pain is too much
The void is too deep

There is never goodbye
For us

I love you
Forever

This wasn’t my last experience of rejection or redemption. It was simply the first. We all have the chance to begin again, but it requires us to discover our regrets, our wrongs, and then have the courage to make a different choice.

Filed Under: Choose Love

A Letter To My Daughters

June 10, 2017 By Shelly McNamara

There will be those who will not like you
They will scorn, frown, and resent
Your very existence

They will pass you by, mock, tease, and never invite you
To their birthday parties

They think that gay parents are less than – with nothing of value to teach

Their eyes are blinded by prejudice, fear, and hatred
Things you never learned from us

We’ve taught you kindness – share it abundantly
We’ve given you love, lots of love
Draw from it to keep you whole

We’ve given you faith, trust, and confidence in self and others
You will need them often

Remember, God brought your two moms together
To create a family and legacy of love
This is the same God who made our persecutors

They have not yet discovered his abundant love and kindness
Be patient and show them that love has no boundaries

Filed Under: Choose Love

Peering In From Without

June 10, 2017 By Shelly McNamara

I look from within at the world
In which I find myself
In which we find ourselves

I see faces that choose only to recognize parts of me privately
Parts of me publicly
“This is my son Jack, his wife Jill and their darling son Michael”
Uhhh, yeah and this is my sister, Shelly…
And this is Cindy

The validation – the invalidation
The love they choose to ignore
The pain they never see
Relationships validated
Relationships invalidated

The love they publicly ignore
I privately keep for my own
To nurture, to keep me safe
From a world that forces me to
“Peer in from without”

Filed Under: Choose Love

We Are All Connected

June 9, 2017 By Shelly McNamara

My sister Mary Lou was the embodiment of love. She loved without conditions, without restrictions, and without the expectation of getting anything in return. She showed love to everyone – always.

I had my final conversation with my Mary Lou on March 22, 2017. She passed away 11 days later on April 2nd. Words can’t express the depth of pain I felt upon her passing.

The last words I spoke to my sister? “ I love you forever.” The last words she spoke to me? “I picked out the poem Shelly. It’s in the book. I highlighted it.” She was so clear and focused for someone in her final days with brain cancer. I was stunned by her ability to speak, and by what she said. My sister knew that I was a writer, and among other things, I wrote poems. The clarity of her statement left me speechless. I went home and opened my book of poems. I instantly knew which poem she “selected” as her favorite. I read this poem as part of her service. She selected it. I had to share it. I wanted to honor her, as she so selflessly honored all of us by loving us without condition or restriction. I realized that I took her love for granted. She gave her love so freely, so generously.

I have been writing for many years and was preparing to post online when my sister was ill. The piece that she “selected” was one that I had written years earlier. it wasn’t until my sister passed away that I realized it was she who taught me –that We Are All Connected by Love. She chose love. I wonder how different our world would be if we all chose love?

I dedicate this to my dear sister, Mary Lou.

We Are All Connected

Death taught me how to Live
With Purpose

Sickness gave me Appreciation of
True Health

Loss reminded me how to Live
And Laugh

You showed me that we Are
All Connected

By Love

Filed Under: Choose Love

I Regret

June 8, 2017 By Shelly McNamara

If I were to wish
For anything

If I were to
Regret anything

I wish that I had
Loved more and
Judged less

I just didn’t see it
Didn’t see you

I regret

Filed Under: Choose Love

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All content has been developed by Shelly McNamara in her personal capacity and not on behalf of her employer, The Procter & Gamble Company (“P&G”). Any views or opinions are personal and belong solely to her, unless explicitly stated otherwise. To the extent that this site uses or publishes information relating to P&G’s business, Shelly has obtained the appropriate approvals to do so in accordance with P&G policy.