State of the Shea, Pt. 46: Father’s Day (“One Heart”)

My dad was born 88 years ago this past week. 

It can be strange to state that kind of thing after somebody has passed away. I’m not comfortable saying he’d be 88 if he were here today, because that’s going to get weird somewhere after the 100-year mark. As it happens, dad’s birthdate and date of death are only about a week apart, so the whole middle of November is a sifting through of remembrances for me. But there are six of us kids in the family – four from dad’s first marriage, and two of us from a second — and there are those of us who post multiple tributes and poems and stories on social media come each mid-November, and there are a few of us that… don’t. 

Dad was an alcoholic— according to his death certificate, that’s what killed him— and that fact impacted all six of us in ways that are uniquely our own. So to one sibling he was their hero no matter what else went down, and to a second he was a forever distant soul who did unforgivable things, and to still another he was a troubled man who broke a lot of hearts as life took him down. No one’s to say which image is right or wrong; that’s just the complex truth of it all.

Me and Dad making Lasagna, 1970. He was an amazing cook

But what I’ve maintained over these past 11 years is that, while my relationship with Dad was often quite difficult, I never doubted his love for me. One way we were able to do that was through letters-- emails later in life, but I’m talking more about the kind that Wolke pulled out of that box he kept on a shelf in the closet at home. They weren’t always the best messages, the ones Dad and I exchanged. But he was a writer at heart (see where I got it from?) and, well, we usually did a better job with those than by talking on the phone as I did with Mom. 

I’ve written some doozies of letters in my time, and not all of them were to Dad. So maybe now you see where I’m going with all this…? 

In the spirit of Wolke’s letter finally read from his father… and keeping in mind the multiple “father” themes we had going on in “One Heart”...OK enough buildup. Here we go:

Dear Park,

Just one episode ahead of all this, you were the one talking about the challenges you had with your father. It sounded like a relationship fraught with expectations, and the need to be true to oneself-- in other words, tenets of the “One Heart” episode. We’ve seen you come at this from the other side of it when your son Kellan is around, but it’s been over a year since we got the privilege of seeing him. Could that be why you seemed over-the-top with your intentions to help young Ollie get a new heart? Was there a little flexing of the paternal muscles involved there?

I ask because when you got on the phone to Ollie’s mom with the I think someone compatible is about to die so let’s get him in here conversation, I thought at first that Ollie’s mom was someone you’d dated in between Mia and Morgan. Such a connection was never mentioned, nor did I ever hear you say Ollie reminded you of Kellan at that age. But maybe he did. That might explain why you were crazy-determined to get put that transplant in motion mere minutes after young Brandon arrived at St. B…

Look, I didn’t know there were UNOS (United Network for Organ Sharing) privileges to be lost-- all I knew was that it felt mighty uncomfortable that you were waiting on a young man to die. And what’s more, the need became a lot more urgent once the potential recipient and his mom were standing by in the hospital, begging not to be disappointed again. 

In the end, they weren’t-- though Brandon and his father were a different story. But since Morgan’s too busy right now dealing with deeply mixed emotions as she sits in Glassman’s office pretending it’s hers… I’ll say it instead: having a son that’s too far away to be involved with on the regular doesn’t give you the right to step over moral boundaries for the “sons” you may encounter in San Jose.

Work on it please,

K of State of #Shea

Hey, Patient of the Week and his mom!

I couldn’t help but notice that while multiple “Dad” issues were cropping up all around you two, your own story was shared as if the dad was not in the picture at all. I don’t think the script informed us if Ollie’s father was deceased/divorced from mom/even on the birth certificate, but the point is that Ollie’s mom is also the de facto dad, and that dual role can be exhausting all be itself (to say nothing of having a child waiting for a heart transplant.) 

I’m sure it helps to have a doctor with high paternal instincts on your side (see if Park will let you read the letter I wrote for him-- you’ll see what I mean), but still, I know not one second of this comes easy for you. Please know we see you out here. Ollie is so lucky to have you.

Good luck with the new heart,

K of State of #Shea

Dear Dr. Wolke and Brandon’s Dad,

Whew! What a week you had. And what a team you made! As Brandon’s life hung in the balance, you two formed a father/son kind of bond, by default, that shook both of you ever-so-gently. 

Brandon’s Dad, as I watched you wait on your son’s fate while dressed to represent the very thing that came between you (the military), I was reminded that the uniform is superficial but the wedge it helped create was anything but. How many fathers and sons have been separated by hopes versus ambitions? And how often has something happened to either the father or son during that span of time to make the separation permanent? 

One day you were contemplating a phone call to bridge the gap with Brandon; a few days later, you were being informed your son was headed for brain death and would never wake up for that crucial conversation. It’s extreme, and your one-sided “goodbye” chat with Brandon was a gut-wrencher for sure. But what if that scene prompted a few estranged fathers to pick up the phone? Or send a text? I’ll put it this way: the dozens of people whose lives were bettered by your son’s organ donations sent one great message into the TV universe… but your last words to him sent yet another. Thank you for your sacrifices, sir…

And Dr. Wolke, I just watched you again as you hung back in that scene, so hard hit as Brandon’s dad told his dying son words that you need to hear from your own father. We’ve all felt for you since day one, when you first revealed your family’s disownment, but the show has never really circled back to the degree it did in this episode. And when you mentioned the unopened letter from your father, I knew we’d see you opening it by the episode’s end. What we don’t know, of course, is what the letter said… but judging from the look on your face as your eyes took in the pages, there is hope for a reunion down the road. Has that hope been bruised because you waited so long to open the letter? Will there be renewed anger because you made assumptions that maybe weren’t true? It may be a while before we know. But the ball is squarely in your court, Dr. Wolke. I hope to hear of some off-screen communication efforts on your part the next time it crops up, OK? Come on, Asher. You can do this.

Peace to both of you, 

K of State of #Shea

Hi Shaun,

What a gift it was to get a peek into your med school days! (Since the calendar on the wall in one of your flashbacks was for the 2012-13 school year, and you came to San Jose in 2017… hmm, maybe it was undergrad years we were treated to. OK, that’s still great!)

Anyway-- while it was somewhat refreshing to see a week in your current life where Salen Morrison’s many “changes” weren’t taking your life down an even bumpier path-- replaced, instead, with a revealing clash on organ donation ethics courtesy of your bestie man Park-- I have to admit that it was for entirely different reasons I was holding my breath through some of “One Heart”’s scenes:

• Lea made a mistake-- a big one-- that you’re going to find out about very soon. It’s likely to leave you confused, and angry, and maybe even thinking  Who is this woman, and am I sure I want to spend the rest of my life with her?

• Lea made another mistake-- much smaller, in my book-- telling you she was going out of town on business when she was, in fact, on a mission to get Glassman back to San Jose where he belongs. (And because she’s scared enough to admit she needs him too, but I’ll talk to Lea about that in a minute.)

• Meanwhile, you sit in Glassman’s (soon to be former???) office and stare at his empty chair and pull inspiration from lessons he taught you many years ago. He’s “hunkering down,” elsewhere and presumably fine, but all you know for day-to-day purposes is that he’s… not here. And you’ve stopped leaving voicemails for him, which to me feels like you’ve given up even hoping he can help you long distance. 

These are tough things you’re dealing with, Shaun, and I’m sorry to say that tougher times look to lie ahead for you. As is almost always the case with Tough TImes, you don’t deserve them. Especially because they are so much more difficult for you to deal with. But deal with them you will. You always have. The question is… with what consequences this time?

Let’s talk about Glassman first. So yeah, the book Understanding Your Child with Autism on his passenger seat was a clever, subtle way to underscore the familial nature of your relationship with him. And as you flashed back to the days when the issue at hand was easy-- to argue or not to argue the answer on a test question-- the larger lesson glowed in the background: You may be right or you may be wrong; these things you’ll have to figure out for yourself. But either way, Glassman has your back.

Except maybe he doesn’t anymore.

I know that’s how you’re feeling, and it’s justified. But when he shows up again (and he will), you have to figure out how to cut him a break. He’s the older, (supposedly) wiser one of the two of you, but he’s in a state of flux right now that has only partially to do with you. 

People run away sometimes-- you did it yourself, remember? You may not be able to feel much empathy for him right now; I know that’s a tough thing for you to feel under any circumstances. So go ahead and rip into him as necessary. He can take it-- hell, he’s read books to understand you better so this should be a given for him, right?  But when the dust settles back down, he’s still your guy. Your biological father is dead and gone, and gave you precious little of value while he was of this earth. Glassman will be back, and will keep on giving in new and wonderful ways. Be patient. He’ll get there. 

And as for Lea-- let me put it this way: You think you know her inside and out, but the funny thing about long-term love relationships is that they never really stop evolving-- there’s a side of her you’ve never seen before HERE; a corner you instantly don’t like THERE. As for Lea, she’s been in many different kinds of relationships with men, but never one quite like the one she’s in with you. She’s determined to make it work, even when it’s difficult, but life has taught her to be prone to self-doubt and second-guessing herself. 

Obviously, that doesn’t mean you’re required to let her off the hook when she makes a bad decision that affects you personally. I doubt she expects you to. But it does mean you’ll need to open your big blue eyes a little wider and see that most issues in your life with her will not be black and white, stay-or-don’t-stay kinds of things. They’ll be gray, and murky, and you’ll need the high beams on the Striped Tomato to cut through to the other side. 

(Yes, Shaun, I know you aren’t supposed to use high beams in murky conditions because they’ll reflect the murkiness right back and make matters worse… think of it as a bad metaphor. Lea uses them and you’ve still been known to benefit…)

I’ve gotta go write a couple more little letters now, but when it comes to Lea… never, ever forget that when you were at your absolute lowest, it was her best that made the difference. She’s got you, Shaun. She’s got you. At the heart of it all, that’s one thing that won’t change. 

Stay strong,

K of State of #Shea

Hey Lea,

Here’s the thing-- of all the letters I’m cranking out today, you’re the one I feel like I “get” the most… except that I really don’t. I can’t, because I’ve never been in love with someone on the spectrum. It’s unique and utterly fascinating to witness, but if I tried to walk in your sneakers or combat boots for a day or two-- yeah, I’m at a loss there. 

So instead, I’ll bond with you on the “I’m pretty much a screw-up” thing. I want to scream How can you say that about yourself?? And tick off a list of marvelous things to prove you wrong. But I know how it feels when someone does that when the “screw-up” part is the only thing your brain will hold onto as true. Everything else bounces off you like a Teflon pan, right?

When Glassman told you you were kind, and smart, and “resilient as all get out”... I watched your eyes, Lea. They didn’t roll, they didn’t blink and follow with a shake of the head, dismissing those words out of hand. You know what he said was true. And you “kind of wanted to hug him” because that kind of validation is SO important for you. SO necessary. What’s even more necessary, though, is believing it about yourself without him-- or anyone else-- having to say it.

You can point a finger Glassy’s way if you want, and say that if he hadn’t been at large the night you omitted the test scores, you wouldn’t have done it. But even if you’re right about Glassman needing to come home (and yeah, you are, don’t let him tell you otherwise), HE is right about the fact that you have to take responsibility. So come home and clean up the mess, or face the music, or whatever figure of speech you want to use. 

And as you do that, remember that the words Glassy used-- kind, smart, resilient as all get out-- you know who else they apply to? Your fiance. People want to claim “opposites attract” for you two at times; sometimes the ignorant ones want to claim there’s no reason at all for you to be with Shaun. They’re wrong, though. You’ve learned that along the way-- you wouldn’t have taken that leap of faith at the end of S3 if you hadn’t, right?

So go back to San Jose, do what you have to do. There might be a bucket and a mop involved. A big, honkin’ huge bucket. If so, dig deeper. That well of resilience might need some power tools for all the things you’re unearthing about your love for Shaun now. But never forget that beauty hides in the darkest places. 

Call if you need me,

K of State of #Shea

Glassman,

Wow. Just-- wow. Selfish much? Immature much? Pack-up-my-toys-in-my-shiny-sportscar-and-LEAVE much??

Way to go, dude. Also, WTF??

OK, now that I’ve gotten that out of my system…

First of all, it appears that rather than be holed up in a different town, drowning your sorrows as you were previously… you’ve at least progressed to group activities, both physical (baseball, naturally) and social (hatchet-tossing at the local Stick and Steak). Good for you, Glassy. Seriously. You found the playground. God knows you needed one.

But recess is over.

I’ve said it before, and now I’ll tell you directly-- I get that you don’t know what to do with yourself as a parent at a certain point of maturity in the child’s life. With Maddie, you never reached that point (and that’s terribly sad). With Shaun, well, you’ve been trying to hand those reins over to Lea all season thus far-- and for all the increasingly good things you tell her, THAT message needs a major tweaking. You said it yourself-- Lea has always treated Shaun as a person, not a problem. So put Lea’s current troubles aside, and ask yourself… aren’t you treating Shaun like a problem right now?

You hear “he’s struggling” and shake your head-- nope, you’ve been fooled by that song before (with the billboard thing), forget it, you’re not stepping into it again that easy.

You make a finger-snap determination with the questions “Is it bad? Is it serious? Will he lose his job over it?” over and over again. Never mind the boiling point that you MUST know is coming. Nope. He clearly doesn’t need you (yet). 

You see his fiancee has taken time off of a pretty important job to track you down “in Paradise (Montana)” (no small road trip, for those of you outside the U.S.) and all you can tell her is GO HOME? Even after she confesses what she’s done, one scene later… still? GO HOME?! 

I give you big props for admitting, in your final scene with her the other night, that she’d been able to do from the start what took you years to learn. (There should have been time scraped together for at least one more scene IMHO, but hell, they probably figured you’d have nothing good to say...) But to top all that goodness off with one more round of you (and Shaun) don’t need me anymore… along with a pat on the head (if you’d have been willing to be so demonstrative; seeing how you literally took a step back when Lea threatened a hug… obviously not)... and a stroll off into the sunset? Aw, HELL no. 

Did you know you almost had me forgiving you a little for your crappy engagement toast when you told Lea what you told her about the “perfectly imperfect marriage” she and Shaun can have? Yep… all the way up until you turned and left her there. You think you’re being some sort of sage, brilliant creature for staying out of everyone’s way now? Lim’s? Shaun’s? Lea’s? Even Salen’s? 

And yet the rest of us can see what’s coming from miles away: the catapult, and the manure, and a 10-story fan set up as a target with the blades running. How sage and brilliant does that make you, Glassy?

All I can add is that it’s a damn good thing that MG of yours can get the speed it gets. I think you're gonna have to floor it all the way back to southern California this time.

I’ll be waiting at the gas station with Mallomars; they’re better for building courage than the alcohol you know…

Compassionately yours (believe it or not),

K of State of #Shea