bouleversement (BOO-luh-vers-MAWN) noun

1. Reversal.

2. Violent uproar, upheaval, or disorder.

[From French bouleversement (upheaval), from bouleverser (to overturn),
from boule (ball) + verser (to turn).]

Just getting the word out might cause one!

My dh and my dad had a bouleversement (definition #2) four years ago yesterday, and have not spoken to one another since, except on one ocassion last summer that was so important to my sons that they wanted their grandparents there, and that concession was made, though conversation was terse and minimal, and nothing changed as I had so desperately hoped that it would.

I find it ironic that dh and I had an argument about this on the very date on which it happened four years ago (yesterday) and when I came to this realization I was startled. I can't help but wonder how much goes on in the subconscious memory that prompts us to act as we do in the present.

I am no longer deeply angry about any of this--not on a continual basis anyway the way dh is. Most of the time I love them both and keep them in separate corners and just don't allow them to touch. It takes a bit of juggling, but after four years I've had plenty of practice.

But today I was sad. Most of the day. I found it hard to concentrate on things I needed to do, and I walked around with a headache that refused to go away. I just can't help but mourn the loss that these two magnificent men are inflicting upon themselves.

My dad is a special person. He is quick-witted and deep-hearted. His generosity is well-known, and he doesn't really have much to give in a material way--though he does that when necessary and like "bread cast upon the waters" it does return. Mostly he gives of himself. He has a creative side that is touching and awesome. From the little welded figurine pencil-holder he made me when I worked at Langston, to the wonderous letters he wrote me when we moved to Connecticut, I think it's that creative side of him that endears him to me most. He is so supportive of my writing but in a quiet way. I feel it more than I hear it.

I know that my Dad loves me even though for some insane reason I am not the easiest person to get close to. He was never one that I could pour my heart out to; I'm not sure that Dad ever had anyone that he could pour his heart and soul out to, especially in his formative years. I know he overcame shyness. Babysat too often. Worked like a slave for his father at the gas station. He learned important qualities from his family about working and providing and as a provider he never let his family down. There were times we didn't have much in the way of money, but we never went to bed with empty bellies, and we always went to bed with Dad in the house with us. In those early formative years of mine, he was there--as many fathers are not these days--and while as parents there are always things we would do differently if we could, my father can look at his children and be proud. We are all self-sufficient, hard workers who have proven to be solid, upstanding adults who don't expect hand-outs and who earn the respect of employers and those around us simply through being decent human beings.

My dh--well, I can't begin to enumerate the things he has taught me and all that he does for me. Dad and dh are poles apart when it comes to risk taking, and thanks to dh I have learned that sometimes it's worth bucking the system and not doing "what everyone else does" just because. I have learned from my hubby how to keep a cool head in situations where I need it so that I can think. I've learned to be more observant. My creativity has blossomed because he never stops at the obvious, but keeps digging till he has the best. He can do anything with nothing. He firmly believes that and has shown time and time again that he can do it. He knows how to use money to make money (and how to lose money in the process of learning--education always costs!). I know that if anything were to happen to him and I no longer had the advantage of his financial support, I would not go to work for someone else, but I would be my own boss, doing what I love and making it work.

I have had the full enjoyment of my children because with him by my side I was able to be with them through every step of their development. Home has been school and school has been home, and I am a lucky woman to have a teenager who still comes to talk to me. Maybe not every day, but I can feel when we've been "apart" too long and can predict with uncanny accuracy when he's going to start talking--usually at night when everyone else is in bed. The close bond I have with my children would have been diminished in untold ways if their father had not made it possible for me to stay home and love them--which happened to include teaching them how to learn.

These two men who are at poles of my earth--with me at the equator--both have large hearts and deep faith. But they also struggle with the burdens of their upbringing. I have wished for four years now that there was something I could do to fix this rift. But it's not my rift. Every time I try to get involved, I come away hurting more, and it's just another reminder that I am supposed to have left this in someone else's hands. I do trust that the hands in which I have placed this problem are capable ones. The "fix" is taking a long time because it's not going to be a patch. The root will be dug out and destroyed and in the end, we'll all be better because of this test that was allowed. But sometimes I miss so much the dinners and conversations that we used to have together. Perhaps even more I miss not having to worry about what's going to happen if/when they ever do come together again. It will not be an easy thing. It will either get worse and then be gone or it will get worse and stay that way. I'm not sure how much courage I have when I've learned to make the present comfortable.

It must look so easy from the outside. Why don't they just get together and talk it out? They're grown men! Well, I'm hear to tell you, grown men have feelings rooted in childhood and those feelings--whether they admit to having them or not--can be consuming and all-powerful. Intellectual basis goes out the window, the mind mud comes in, along with the anger, fear, frustration, hurt, and what's left behind is bouleversement. And the sadness that goes with it.