Sentimentality

One of the things about my father that both fascinated and annoyed me growing up was that he was sentimental. He wasn't mushy--it felt different than that. He wasn't gushy, maudlin, sappy, soft or schmaltzy. It was more that he had a deep emotional affect to the things that happened around him. His response wasn't extravagant--he just seemed to have an extremely large heart.

Now mind you, this never involved me directly. Because he was a typical distant 1950's father I was never the object of any sentimental emotions from him, or for that matter many emotions at all. This was more evident with people in our small farming community when they were ill or had died, the loss of things, when something changed or anything to do with animals.

I remember when I was quite small going out to our farm to find a mother calf in labor with a breech calf. After working what seemed like a number of hours the calf was born dead. My father had large tears dropping on his cheeks all the way home, although he did not say a word.

This tenderness seemed quite foreign and a sharp contrast to our relationship which was angry, rough and empty of emotions. I distantly observed his reaction to others and couldn't help but notice what I would call "sentimental reactions" to things.

Partially because of our remote relationship, I seemed to take a more "middle of the road" with my own responses to others and things in my life. This was more comfortable for my personality and also provided me with the illusion that I was different from my father. I think this helped ease the pain that I wasn't even conscious of feeling.

This afternoon I opened my Facebook and there was a picture of my son's cat.   My son and his family are moving to London next week and decided after many discouraging calls to multiple airlines to find the cat a good home and leave him in the States.

I have to admit, my reaction to their giving away the cat was much larger than I would have expected. It surprised me how sleepy and almost depressed I became. I had a deep feeling of loss and a lot of sadness.

I began to wonder if the cat was a catalyst for getting me more closely in touch with the kids moving so far away. My reaction to the cat was just to big.

So, I have to admit--I am feeling sentimental. My mind is picturing all my lovely visits with my little Granddaughter over the last 16 months. I am going back into the past remembering just how wonderful it felt to be with all of them. My mind and emotions are also racing forward, tripping on the unknowns of the future. Will I get to see them? Will my grandchildren get to know me and me them? How will I ever make this situation work?

When I finally bring myself back to the present--there it is again: I am feeling sentimental. No matter how hard I am trying to be different from my father--this response is the same as his. And it somehow seems okay with me. My heart is enormous and heavy and feels as though it will burst. And, yes, tears are running down my cheeks...