Masters week at Augusta National Golf Club is always one of my favorite weeks of the year. Watching the iconic event, listening to the calm music, taking in the gorgeous Azalea shrubs, and experiencing all the annual traditions while being lulled asleep by the voice of Jim Nance, is such a wonderful treat. This reflective week has me thinking about mulligans.
Have you ever wondered what your life might look like if someone you were estranged from gave you a second chance? Or if you offered forgiveness and gave someone else a do-over?
Twenty five years ago I had been estranged from my father for over a decade. Virtually all of my twenties I had zero contact with him. Issues between us had built up over time and then there was a final blow-out. He ended our argument by slamming down the receiver of his phone, and he never called me back. I never called him again. I had reached my limit and felt so disrespected that I just decided to move on without him.
I started focusing on people’s actions and not their words. It was a lesson that I learned the hard way by repeatedly giving my dad a pass on his bad behavior. I’ve learned that actions always give you a more honest assessment of what’s really going on. As a writer it’s hard to admit that words can be cheap, but unfortunately it’s true. Do you have those people in your life that always tell you they support you, but when you explain exactly what you need they don’t do a single thing you’ve requested? Being keenly aware of a person’s actions or passive-aggressive responses is an astute skill that helps one cut through the games, and understand how people really feel. Even though some of these lessons were unpleasant, I’m grateful my father taught me them.
After reconnecting, forgiving him and offering him a mulligan, his regret was palpable. I have often thought that regrets are the most painful feelings one could ever experience. No matter how much you think about it, wish it was different, plead with your memory to forget, you can never change the past.
My father missed my college graduation, my wedding, and so many other major events in my life all because he couldn’t hold himself accountable for his behavior. As I like to say, “He couldn’t own his own shit!” Tragic for sure, but luckily it was only a decade. For my own healing I had forgiven him, but that didn’t mean I thought he was capable of having a healthy relationship. But as fate would have it, I bumped into him and witnessed the regret he felt, and I decided he might be ready to be the father I had remembered from when I was a little girl. As it turned out I was right. He spent the rest of his life trying to make sure I always knew he loved me. He didn’t just tell me, he showed me.
After reflecting on all the years that we had together I realized that without him in it, I might not be where I am today. I might not have made some of the choices I did without his confidence in me and consistent encouragement. That one decision to give him another chance changed the trajectory of our lives.
In my memoir All But Six, I tell our story of all the laughs and crazy times I had with my dad. It was a journey that I wouldn’t trade for the world. All the pain had its purpose, all the lessons made me stronger, and all the love held me together.
In my thirties, my husband John, taught me how to play golf and we used to love to spend every Sunday playing “hit and giggle” rounds. Thankfully, I am not a competitive person because even though I developed a decent swing, I hated practice and never shot better than an eighty-nine. John was a scratch golfer and even during a round when he was challenged to use only one club for every single shot, he still kicked my ass! But we had a lot of fun and he would always say, “I will give you all the special dispensations you need, Beauty. With me you have unlimited mulligans.”
John has never held a grudge, doesn’t withhold love, and never punishes me for thinking differently or challenging him. I always know that no matter what I say or do, he loves me. Looking back now I realize he wasn’t really teaching me about golf. He was the first person to show me what it meant to love someone unconditionally, and I learned to trust that he would never abandon me. Again, not just with his words but he also delivered it through his actions.
True unconditional love is powerful—and above all, the only thing that really matters. My father was a beneficiary of me having learned this, and in the end he finally understood my actions meant I loved him more than words.
Unfortunately, not everyone deserves a mulligan. They don’t all deliver a birdie, but perhaps a par could change the score enough to help you win the round. One decision could change your life and define how your story ends. Life is short, decades fly by quickly, regrets are painful—choose wisely.
Love,
Terrina
PS—I hope you get to watch the amazing Masters golf tournament this week and grab one of those awesome “Jim Nance naps,” while dreaming of winning that green jacket and getting unlimited mulligans. There’s nothin’ better my friend! : )
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