I have been wanting to see the movie The Judge for quite some time. As life would have it, I got busy and I missed my chance to visit my local movie theater and take it in. I happened to see it on pay per view (or is a more modern term 'on demand'?) and rented it. It was a great expense. Not only did it have one but two of my favorite actors -- both Robert Duvall and Robert Downey Jr. That in itself makes for a masterpiece.
I knew of the story line. I knew it was going to pull some heart strings. I knew it was going to make me miss the hell out of my dad. And I was right on.
My dad had a lot of hopes and dreams for me. He always wanted a lawyer out of the family. I happened to entertain the idea and enrolled in a paralegal program which I finished. But, as my dad would know, it wouldn't go any further than a certificate. That wasn't my thing, my passion. I could argue and debate with the best of them, but I wouldn't ever make a living off of it.
My dad was a hard ass. He took pride in it. He loved to push people to the breaking point. It was a game to him. A battle of wits and skill. The weaker link would break under the pressure of the strong, unbreakable one. There were times I felt like a dog in a dog fight against my siblings. There were times I hated being played against them, especially when bad feelings lingered and grudges were held over heads and hearts.
I know that as my dad's oldest born daughter, I had big shoes to fill. He wanted a strong daughter. We were 2 weeks and 30 years apart in age. He missed out in the raising of his older sons but rarely talked about it. I am sure it was his own Achilles heel. Even though he didn't talk about it, I felt it. As a young girl, I think about 5 years old (I remember what teacher I had) he told me something that left an impression in my mind to this day. He told me that there would be people who would think I was not as good as a boy just because I was a girl but I had to show them I was, if not better, than a man. He would joke that he raised Amazon women only the joke wasn't in laughter but his own version of sarcasm.
I fought my way through the obstacles at school, in class, at work and even volunteering. I gravitated to male dominated careers. I found myself making my name known due to my job performance, my younger age, and my attitude. I fully understood the term 'it's a dog eat dog world'. I didn't always select the jobs that my dad preferred but I always made a point to brag about my victories to him.
I sought his approval. He knew it. He would give me just enough praise and then correct my performance. I didn't know how to get around what he thought was constructive criticism. I just interpreted it as me not measuring up. He couldn't brag about me being some power hungry attorney, or a doctor or even married to one. I didn't know if I would ever make him proud to claim me.
When I decided I wanted to pursue a life in ministry, it wasn't clear to me what he thought. Anyone knows ministry work doesn't make you rich.....at least it shouldn't. Did I mention I made a switch and 'crossed over' from being a cradle Catholic to being a Protestant? Yep, to break generations of Catholics on his side of the family. Not winning any awards or a submission for the 'Daughter of the Year Award'.
My dad was a man of strong faith and deeply rooted in the Word. He could recite Bible passages both forward and probably backwards I'm sure. He loved to talk about God and evangelize whenever and wherever he could. In my life, I heard some people refer to him as a fanatic because of his spiritual disciplines that he practiced daily. Praying the rosary until he couldnt keep his eyes open was common. He would watch religious programming and sing old hymns that some of his favorite vocalists sang. He wasn't shy about his religion or what he believed in.
He wanted me to go big. He often talked to me about starting my own church and how I could get grants to help me in those endeavors. I wanted to fight back my own ego, stay low, focus on my relationship with God and do the hands and feet work of Jesus. You see, I come from a very proud yet hardworking family. Our accomplishments are worn on our chests like awards. I wanted something different out of this.
As my dad's health deteriorated, he spent more time resting and less time being active. I remember being 'called up' by my parents to take turns with my siblings to drive and escort him to his kidney dialysis sessions. My father was an early riser and of course, opted to take the first appointment of the day. There was no checking against our schedules. It was take a shift and make arrangements as needed. For me, that meant getting up no later than 515am to jump into my car and head south to Mill Creek to pick him up, to barely make it for his 6am check in. I can still envision him pacing back and forth in the driveway or looking distracted in his home office, with the lights on and the blinds drawn as he waited for his tardy daughter to arrive.
It was a labor of love to get up early in the morning, make arrangements to have the kids taken to their schools and have everything they needed to start their days. What was more of a challenge was sitting next to him, keeping him company for 5-6 hours as the machine drained, filtered and redistributed his blood thru a very large, intimidating machine. It was a job his failing kidneys could no longer do alone. Three times a week, he embarked with his escort to this center, which was squished between other stores, in a shopping plaza on the Bothell Everett Highway. I took one day a week and an occasional second shift when one of the siblings had a test or an important business meeting to attend.
I failed to mention my queasy stomach.
In 2000, I had a crazy idea to try and embark on studies to become a nurse. This comes from a woman who can't handle bodily fluids of any kind, whether my own or my child's. I went as far as being accepted into the nursing program when I finally 'came to' & to my parents' disappointment, withdrew. Imagine me, trying to stomach sitting next to this mondo machine, and being in a room where several other patients endured the same treatments. It literally was hell for me, but the duty and my chance as his daughter to try to pay back a fraction of my gratitude for all of the years I had put him through hell.
So what does any of this have to do with this movie I just saw, you may be asking yourself. Everything.
My dad and I had an ongoing strained but loving relationship. He wanted the moon while I settled for a starlit sky. He wanted wealth and power to be my companions. When I discovered my calling as a minister, there was little convincing my dad could do to sway me away. He began to accept my decision. How did I know this? Because it was revealed one early morning at this dialysis center.
I can't quite remember if it was my first or my second visit there but I was introduced by my father as his daughter, the minister. He said it with pride and complete confidence. I was floored. As I came to fulfill my daughter duty, and with each new tech who helped get my dad hooked up and monitored, I was reintroduced the same way. He spoke of me to the other patients. I was known as his daughter the minister. I had arrived.
I watched scenes of this movie and thought about whether my dad or me would've watched it first. Which one of us would suggested it to the other? I imagined it would've been my dad who would've loaned me the copy, which I most likely wouldn't have returned. Maybe I could've gotten him to watch it with me. I won't ever know. What I do know is, the scene in the boat with the two Roberts brought tears cascading down my cheeks. That scene in the boat took place for me in a sterile medical facility where I was enough.
