Backstory
My dad seemed to have trouble defining his roles as father and head of the house. He shifted gears a lot. The inconsistency led to blunders on both our parts. Communication was infrequent and stifled. But when we connected, it was special.
Did Dad Like Me?
I thought my dad didn’t like me much. My mom was always enthralled by my stories of what happened in school or what my friends were wearing or doing. My dad – well, he’d fall asleep while I prattled on about my day.
He would come home in work clothes dirtied from his labor. He was a welder and that was not white collar work. He would take a shower, have dinner and lay down on the couch and before I could talk to him, he’d be asleep. Seemed there was no time for me.
It was years before I realized, he napped because he was exhausted.
He did hard physical labor every day and his body needed rest, not the chattering of a nine year old consumed with her own world.
But when I did have his attention, it was heaven. I remember being with him on a fishing boat he had won in a raffle. Singing with him as he drove the blue Hudson to the mountains for family picnics in the summer.
Having him stand up for me when I was bullied.
I remember a tearful session where I accused him of never being satisfied with my accomplishments. An A minus was reproached. It could have been an A. He was shocked to hear that I felt unappreciated. He told me how he bragged about my accomplishments. Told friends and relatives how proud he was of me.
But Dad, you forgot to tell ME.
P.S.
It all comes down to communication. Make room for it, dads. Phones down, voices up. Let’s talk about it. Happy Father’s Day.
[#356]
Annette, I don’t tell YOU enough how much your stories mean to me and, I am sure, many others! Your talent for “story reduction” leaves a lasting impression. The art of choosing one detail from many and leaving your audience smiling and thinking, “That is so true!” is a rare gift for a storyteller!
Always such a treat to hear from you, Mary.
His ad agency’s office was in our home. There was a glass door, always closed, so I could see him but not talk to him. I remember being a small child, sitting on the floor outside that door, crying. I wanted my daddy to play with me. Seventy years later, I still feel that pain.
What an important reminder to always let the folks around us know when we notice and appreciate them. I’m always reading about people of all ages who say they feel invisible. Certainly many children must feel that way. We’ve all got to work harder to change that. Thanks for the reminder!
Still getting used to my responsibilities as a blog owner, Elizabeth. I missed all these interesting comments posted in June. Just getting back to everyone now.
Another factor of being appreciated is RECOGNIZING when parents or others in your life are providing positive reinforcement. I had someone in my life who never did. And I never did figure out how to overcome that. Still working on it though.
Awwww……….this made me cry. Your story sounds exactly like mine. The positive part is that we made sure to give Krista time together as a family every day. Thanks for helping me to reminisce on the good times.
Thanks for your insights, Karen. By the time I met your dad, he was mellow and spoke so positively of you and your husband. Seems we ALL mature with age, hopefully for the better.
You know, Annette, I never realized that you had the same father as I – the guy who told everyone but us how wonderful we are! I was always looking for my father’s appreciation, too. And about those A-grades. MY dad wanted to know, “Don’t they give A+?”
Long after he died, (it has been 25 years now) his friends were telling me stories he’d told them. Why couldn’t he tell ME that I had done a good job?
Jill
Oh, Jill, I can just imagine your dad keeping his praise close to his vest. But by now you DO know what he thought of you. And the whole association community lauded the work you did after him. You can be so proud of what you contributed.