Yup, it all comes down to the telephone--again!
Does it ever seem like the most important relationships in your life are those carried out via the telephone? I suppose that is one of the down falls of our mobile society, but it seems to me that every important relationship I have is dependent upon a telephone. Lindsay and Finn are so far away, Marcus spends most of the year away on business, and Shannon still lives at home but at 20 is never at home, so most of our talking is via the phone. My parents live very far away as does my grandmother and all my siblings.
Normally I don't really even think twice about this, but I've been trying to call my dad all morning and he isn't answering the phone. I try to be a good daughter and call him every week, but lately it seems that something always comes up and I haven't talked to him in a couple weeks. I miss him. I've lived away from my father for 15 years now and I see him very seldom. The last time I saw him was three years ago. That worries me; he isn't getting any younger (though he is only 63) and sometimes I feel like my days with him are numbered. It is simply impossible for me to imagine my life without him; he very literally IS my guiding light. All my life he has been the one man--hell, the one person--I've admired the most and hurt for the most.
He was never an easy man; in fact we was rather rigid when I was growing up. He was strict and expected a lot from his 5 children. His children knew not to step out of line and, when we momentarily lost our senses, he knew how to get us back in line right fast. And there would be no crying around my father! Or he would certainly "give you something to cry about." He wasn't a loving man; yes, he loved, but he didn't know how to express it. You were just supposed to know that he loved you. He wasn't around often because he usually worked three or four jobs in order to be able to provide for his family. He did provide well for us. Oh, we didn't have a fancy house or fancy cars or travel often, but we had the things we needed and he always made sure that we had some things that were fun too--such as snow mobiles in the winter, dirt bikes and dune buggies in the summer. I'd have given up all of that just to have his attention. My dad has always been an avid reader (I suspect my love of books came from him), but I remember as a child thinking that my dad really didn't know how to read. I thought he was just pretending so he wouldn't have to pay attention to me.
In hindsight, I think he was afraid to love too much. His adult life was tough; full of heartache. My parents were married and divorced twice and in between those times had three children. I think my mother broke his heart and took his will to love. I was the oldest of their children and when they divorced for the final time my mother decided to keep only me and left my father with my two sisters. It's a long painful story but in the end my mother also deserted me and I went to stay with my father too. We never saw my mother again; I think that crushed my father. Despite the fact that he eventually remarried and had two more children, I think he always carried sadness and guilt with him concerning my biological mother. I think he was afraid that if he loved too much (even his children) then he would lose them. None of that made me love my father any less; I understood him even as a child and it was always my goal to love him enough for both of us.
Live went on that way until about 8 years ago when my dad faced a quadruple by-pass. Something in him changed after that. Perhaps it was the idea of impending death, I don't know, but from that point on my father learned how to show his love. I still remember after one long phone call when we were about to hang up the phone and I told him "I love you, Dad." Choking back tears he uttered the words that he had rarely ever reciprocated to me "I love you too." I sobbed for an hour. I'd always known he loved me, but to hear it meant the world. Since that day, my relationship with my father has gotten even stronger. He tells me he loves me every time we talk. He is the one person I can tell everything and anything to and he never judges me. He laughs so often now. It's a rumbling, loud belly laugh and I smile every time I hear it. His hugs are like none other in the world; tight and complete, you can just feel his love penetrating from him to you. The last time I had one of those hugs was when I flew him to Louisiana for his birthday. We had a wonderful visit and our good-bye at the airport was heart-breaking. My father, who had once been so reserved, hugged me endlessly and unabashedly cried his eyes out in the airport for all to see. It was by far one of the most important moments in my life and the moment when I knew that my father loved me with everything he had. I will never be embarrassed to say that, even at 43, I am Daddy's little girl.
Okay, I know that was oh so sappy, but it's the way I feel. And on that note, I'm going to go call my dad.
Normally I don't really even think twice about this, but I've been trying to call my dad all morning and he isn't answering the phone. I try to be a good daughter and call him every week, but lately it seems that something always comes up and I haven't talked to him in a couple weeks. I miss him. I've lived away from my father for 15 years now and I see him very seldom. The last time I saw him was three years ago. That worries me; he isn't getting any younger (though he is only 63) and sometimes I feel like my days with him are numbered. It is simply impossible for me to imagine my life without him; he very literally IS my guiding light. All my life he has been the one man--hell, the one person--I've admired the most and hurt for the most.
He was never an easy man; in fact we was rather rigid when I was growing up. He was strict and expected a lot from his 5 children. His children knew not to step out of line and, when we momentarily lost our senses, he knew how to get us back in line right fast. And there would be no crying around my father! Or he would certainly "give you something to cry about." He wasn't a loving man; yes, he loved, but he didn't know how to express it. You were just supposed to know that he loved you. He wasn't around often because he usually worked three or four jobs in order to be able to provide for his family. He did provide well for us. Oh, we didn't have a fancy house or fancy cars or travel often, but we had the things we needed and he always made sure that we had some things that were fun too--such as snow mobiles in the winter, dirt bikes and dune buggies in the summer. I'd have given up all of that just to have his attention. My dad has always been an avid reader (I suspect my love of books came from him), but I remember as a child thinking that my dad really didn't know how to read. I thought he was just pretending so he wouldn't have to pay attention to me.
In hindsight, I think he was afraid to love too much. His adult life was tough; full of heartache. My parents were married and divorced twice and in between those times had three children. I think my mother broke his heart and took his will to love. I was the oldest of their children and when they divorced for the final time my mother decided to keep only me and left my father with my two sisters. It's a long painful story but in the end my mother also deserted me and I went to stay with my father too. We never saw my mother again; I think that crushed my father. Despite the fact that he eventually remarried and had two more children, I think he always carried sadness and guilt with him concerning my biological mother. I think he was afraid that if he loved too much (even his children) then he would lose them. None of that made me love my father any less; I understood him even as a child and it was always my goal to love him enough for both of us.
Live went on that way until about 8 years ago when my dad faced a quadruple by-pass. Something in him changed after that. Perhaps it was the idea of impending death, I don't know, but from that point on my father learned how to show his love. I still remember after one long phone call when we were about to hang up the phone and I told him "I love you, Dad." Choking back tears he uttered the words that he had rarely ever reciprocated to me "I love you too." I sobbed for an hour. I'd always known he loved me, but to hear it meant the world. Since that day, my relationship with my father has gotten even stronger. He tells me he loves me every time we talk. He is the one person I can tell everything and anything to and he never judges me. He laughs so often now. It's a rumbling, loud belly laugh and I smile every time I hear it. His hugs are like none other in the world; tight and complete, you can just feel his love penetrating from him to you. The last time I had one of those hugs was when I flew him to Louisiana for his birthday. We had a wonderful visit and our good-bye at the airport was heart-breaking. My father, who had once been so reserved, hugged me endlessly and unabashedly cried his eyes out in the airport for all to see. It was by far one of the most important moments in my life and the moment when I knew that my father loved me with everything he had. I will never be embarrassed to say that, even at 43, I am Daddy's little girl.
Okay, I know that was oh so sappy, but it's the way I feel. And on that note, I'm going to go call my dad.
posted by Dianna | 1:40 PM
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