Never too soon
Oh, reckless abandon
Like no one’s watching you.”
My father had beautiful blue eyes.
I remember as an insecure teenager, looking at him and wishing I had those same eyes. Mine are brown.
A few years after his death, I traveled to Peru with my wife.
There I met an Astrologer who went through my birth chart and uncovered something remarkable.
As a 9-year-old boy, my father, Stephen John Wawryk, lost his father who died in the middle of the night of a heart attack.
The night before my grandfather’s death, that 9-year-old Stephen John told his dad he wished he were dead because of some feud they’d got in.
Of course, he didn’t mean it, but those words stuck with him for the rest of his life.
We were about 5–10-years-old when my sisters and I were with my dad in the kitchen, his favorite place, and he told us this story and then started to cry. This was one of those rare moments that I saw tears fall from that man’s eyes.
The Astrologer asked me, “did your dad love himself?” The answer was clear. No. At least not most of the time.
He blamed himself for his last words to his father, and although he knew it wasn’t sincere, the trauma of a child who grew up in the 1960’s without therapy would go on to continue living through adulthood.
I grew up loving my father, idolizing his stoic presence.
He would look you in the eye and fear would grow from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head. But he would also look you in the eye and you would feel an enormous love come over you that felt like butterflies.
I use his story because when the Astrologer asked me, “Do you love yourself?” The answer was clear. No. At least not most of the time.
Since the trip in 2016 to Peru, I’ve come to terms and forgiven my past.
I ventured down a road towards self-love and it all started by first clearing the air.
Like a wind at its slowest speed, a gentle residue of dust swept away to a new breeze right there to follow it.
I’ve found self-love. And I hope you have, or can, too.