We fought like cats and dogs.
He loved sports.
I loved dance.
There was no middle ground.
I was a tomboy, but I would wear a dress every day if you let me.
I didn’t understand him.
He got frustrated with me.
Mom said we fought because we were so alike. I thought she might be a little bit crazy. Dad and I were nothing alike. In my mind he didn’t support my dancing, he thought it was frivolous…not like sports. He got angry at me for getting straight A’s & B’s – while my brother barely brought home C’s. For some reason it was never good enough…it was always, “Well, this 95 is good, but why wasn’t it 100??”
It took way too many years.
A happenstance turn of events that left it so that it was just us.
Me & my Dad.
For 2 months while Mom tried to sell our house in Buffalo I lived here alone with my Dad. Went to school. Made dinner. We watched TV, made s’mores in the microwave.
Talked.
There was a shift during that two months. My older brother wasn’t around (it was his senior year, he finished it in Buffalo & then stayed there). My Mom, usually the mediator, wasn’t there.
We got close.
From that point on the fighting lessened. It didn’t disappear…I mean, Dad and I are both hot-heads. Blow ups are bound to happen…but things eased up. He took me to the theater. He was great around my friends – even taking us camping on several occasions.
He’s my Dad.
Now he’s turning 62.
In the past few years he’s been battling illness, and fighting to get time with his family. For his grandkids to see their Papa as the strong, smart and stubborn man that my brother and I knew growing up. I know that some days are harder than others.
I don’t think I’ve told him enough how much I admire him for all he did RIGHT when we were growing up. Or thanked him for trying to push me to work harder (just because it didn’t work doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the effort).
Happy Birthday to my Dad.
The impossible, stubborn, bull-headed, strong, smart, hard-working, hunting, playful, supportive Dad that both frustrated me and held me up in an esteem I didn’t realize soon enough.
I love you Dad.
Poetic prose, I love it. I do hope you share this with him.
In my humble opinion with age comes understanding.
My dad and I have a difficult history. After he had his first heart attack I realized that I didn’t want an apology I just wanted a dad.
In the years since that heart attack we’ve grown closer and I’ve learned to love him for who he is. He’s 77 now and I’m so glad we’ve had these years to grow closer.
While I was in the hospital this past October I said to him I’m so glad you and mom and mom don’t fight like you use to. He said to me, “Through all the bad times I always loved your mother.” If I or he hadn’t lived past that day I would have been at peace with the past.
Um, that should be you and mom. LOL