Father – for so long we have had our quarrels.
For so long have I yelled my frustrations at you –
why don’t you see me as I want to be seen
why don’t you treat me as I want to be treated
why aren’t you listening to me, the way I want to be heard.
For so long I have dwelled in the temple of frustration.
Contemplating the lack I felt in our relation.
Wrestling with the idea that I was somewhat inferior in your eyes. Painfully aware of my own flaws in what I thought was your eyes.
In your shadow I felt judged.
Your worldview didn’t seem to have space enough for both of us.
As if I had to be-little myself to fit in.
Your rules and agendas seemed intolerable to me.
As stiff and cruel bars of dogma and restraint.
Your ways seemed to dismiss all of my efforts to stand for myself and speak my truth.
Your tales seemed to never include a hero of my nature – and maybe even shaping the scoundrels in my shape.
At times I even wondered if you enforced your belief system upon me as a deliberate war against my entire being.
Now my rebellion seems more and more indifferent.
As a toddler who outlived a tantrum, the energy of my resistance is fading.
Fading confronting a new phase in our relationship.
The phase of you leaving me.
The phase your death.
The phase of you fading away – slowly releasing your grip on this world.
And as you become less and less present, I suddenly feel the loss.
Now I get to witness your dissolving.
How your hands and arms that used to be so strong and impressive – maybe even scary – are now weak and dressed in the garnment of old wrinkles as a too large shirt dripping from the hanger.
Everything that seem to powerfull and overwhelming about you is slowly and steadily being consumed by your death.
And in the dimming light of you fading out and away from this realm, I begin to comprehend how much of my entire existence I owe to you.
No matter our differences.
No matter how much pain your many flaws and imperfections caused me.
And deep from within cry of sorrow emerges.
A lamentation for your death, your dethronement and your leaving.
And suddenly I feel afraid. I feel lost.
As a four year old who lost track of the parent in the supermarket lane and fell the immense and overwhelming felling of abandonment.
Why Father, are you leaving me?
Witnessing you leaving my world – I realise you are passing the insignia of Authority on to me. To me – your daughter.
Passing on the Throne, the Crown, the Flail and emblems of Power, Stability and Strength.
And that all we have been through together was part of your teaching me to be independent.
You took me through a path of initiation – a path of thousands of years and several lifes.
You taught me how disempowerment looks and feels like – not to shame me, disempower me, dominate me og chain me – but to teach me, prepare me and refine my skills.
I would not have learnt to master the elements and subtle realms protected and safeguarded in a pleasant nursery of joy and recognition.
I could not have strengthened my ability of being me in spite of hardship if raised in all bliss and pretty-ness.
And now I lament your leaving.
Now my heart aches like a child loosing her father.
Now I see how you got me this far.
And I am still alive.
Carrying the worthiness of the path I have walked.
Would I ever have started walking without your harsh push?
Now I see have your structured dogmatic world system took me from chaotic lawlessness, living on a day to day basis and cultivated it, moulded it into a structure that provided me with food enough to survive, with abundance enough to free resources enough to create culture and beauty.
I lived in your house and under your rules. And were they always fair?
Not at all.
Did everyone had to sacrifice some autonomy to make this happen?
Did somebody suffer. Yes.
Still – I cry a river.
Mourning the collapse of the safety and structure that the very same world I have been rebelling against as toddler and teen actually provided for me.
And I feel lost.
I knew who I was in comparison to you.
With you gone – you who created me – I am not sure who I am in a world without you.
I have never experienced it.
Invisible to my eyes you provided me with safety and structure.
With tradition and rules to rely upon.
And I will honor what you taught me: to honor myself.
To honor what and who I am.
And to discover what the daughters way of raising new generation is.
With integrity to who I am.
Just as you showed integrity to who you were.
May you rest in peace.
May we be able to fully appreciate your gift of light.
May we be able to fully comprehend the imperfections of that gift – acknowledging where we are called into service of improving it as we take the throne left by the dying father and continue the work and the watch.
Now we hold it.
I will pick it up.
I will take the Throne.
I will begin my Regency.