I am reminded of Chris Cooper's line about his storyline "father," from the film "Lone Star": "The first seventeen years I wanted to be just like him, the next seventeen years I wanted to give him a heart attack."
I was very fortunate with my father. After a few years of rough patches, we got through it and became much closer as adults than we'd ever been while I was growing up. He was even excited and supportive of my returns to grad school for my MA, and then my Ph.D. When dementia made it impossible for him to take care of himself, I saw to his move into assisted living and looked after his finances. Those years off the market made it impossible for me to ever get any kind of job, in academia or elsewhere. On our last visit, he thanked me for coming by, but just had to mention how much I looked like his son.
Thank you for sharing this with your readers and friends. It got me to cry, which does not happen easily. I am honored you are willing to let others mourn with you. Whatever your relationship with your father was, loss is hard. I lost my dad almost 23 years ago. 22 years, 11 months ago. I miss him. He is in my son's brow, my smile and green eyes, and the sound of a baseball game played through a transistor radio. I learned gentleness was more powerful than anger, apologizing and keeping the friend is better than winning, and that there can be enough, of anything. I recall things he did, how he might drawl out words for emphasis or show me how to use a tool or observe something in nature. Those echos imbue a richer meaning in my life. May you find some warmth and strength from your father in memories, sounds, and eyes of someone who loves you.
I am reminded of Chris Cooper's line about his storyline "father," from the film "Lone Star": "The first seventeen years I wanted to be just like him, the next seventeen years I wanted to give him a heart attack."
I was very fortunate with my father. After a few years of rough patches, we got through it and became much closer as adults than we'd ever been while I was growing up. He was even excited and supportive of my returns to grad school for my MA, and then my Ph.D. When dementia made it impossible for him to take care of himself, I saw to his move into assisted living and looked after his finances. Those years off the market made it impossible for me to ever get any kind of job, in academia or elsewhere. On our last visit, he thanked me for coming by, but just had to mention how much I looked like his son.
Thank you for sharing this with your readers and friends. It got me to cry, which does not happen easily. I am honored you are willing to let others mourn with you. Whatever your relationship with your father was, loss is hard. I lost my dad almost 23 years ago. 22 years, 11 months ago. I miss him. He is in my son's brow, my smile and green eyes, and the sound of a baseball game played through a transistor radio. I learned gentleness was more powerful than anger, apologizing and keeping the friend is better than winning, and that there can be enough, of anything. I recall things he did, how he might drawl out words for emphasis or show me how to use a tool or observe something in nature. Those echos imbue a richer meaning in my life. May you find some warmth and strength from your father in memories, sounds, and eyes of someone who loves you.
❤️❤️❤️❤️