I'm not going to write at length here about what I've read, but I do want to quote a passage in the explanation of the third task, "Making Peace with One's Parents" (p405) that hit me like a ton of bricks. Ms. Wertsch was describing a dream she had:
It took place in the backyard of our quarters on some Army post of my childhood...I could not glean many details from just my peripheral vision; my gaze was focused entirely on my father's face, and he was standing so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. My mother was standing there too, equally close, so that the three of us formed a kind of tight triangle. I was an adult, the age I was when I had the dream.
My father was looking intently at me. But instead of the usual hard, cold glare, his eyes were vulnerable and pleading. He opened his mouth and after a moment's hesitation spoke a single sentence, with great feeling. It was obviously an enormous effort for him to keep his voice from breaking. Still searching my eyes, unblinking, he said,
"Tell me what it takes to be a good father."
Even in the dream, the question stunned me. It was something I had never imagined I would ever hear my father say, so incompatible was it with everything I had observed in this fierce and unrepentant man. In a flash all sorts of other questions were raised in my mind. What had happened to change him so? Why was he asking me now, after my brother and I were adults? Was this an admission of accountability for so much of our pain? Was it an apology?
He was still staring at me, pleading with his eyes. I realized in the most profound depths of my being that I must not hesitate longer. I must answer, and my answer must respect his pain, his dignity, and the seriousness of the question. Above all, my answer must offer him a chance.
"First of all," I said slowly, as our eyes held, "thank you for asking me." I paused.
"The most important thing for a good father is to keep the lines of communication open."
His eyes, still vulnerable, registered gratitude. I had said the right thing. In that instant, still holding one another's gaze, I felt a connectedness of our hearts, and I knew our relationship had redefined itself.
Cued by my dream, I began - slowly - to consider that I had better get to work on dismantling a whole package of myths about my father's villainy, and perhaps about my own self-proclaimed innocence.
Reading this, I came to realize that I must do the same...as regards my mother, my father, my children and most of all my husband. It's the only way I will ever...finally...grow up.
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