be-musings

There are more collect calls on Father's Day than any other day of the year. That's the way to do it...make them pay for the call that is supposed to tell them how much we appreciate their sacrifices for us. Not to complain...I think my house originated some collect calls to make that statistic true.
When I was growing up I thought that parents were the reason why so many teenagers were screwed up. Certainly as a teen it was a convenient excuse. I saw this as playing out in the life of my dad. Seemingly uninvolved, it made me feel like I was not convenient to have. Yes, I have problems because of some things in the family unit.
A few years ago dad seemed to be in a tender spot and he made comments that were different than prior visits. He said that he wasn't always supportive or even kind in his remarks. It was my chance to tell him how the child in me felt. I could have "stuck it to him". I couldn't. I said one statement of acknowledgement of what he was saying and left it there. Why dig up something that couldn't be corrected? I wasn't a child anymore.
My dad learned to say he loved me when he left home. I was 18. Sure, if it were earlier that would be nice, but I'm just glad that it happened sometime. Every time I talk to him on the phone he ends by saying he loves me. I melt for that few seconds. It's not a drippy delivery, just a quick matter-of-fact communication. But I know he means it. He says "I'm proud of you girls" and I know he means that too. It's enough for me. He calls me every couple of months, even if there's not much to say. If it's sooner than that I think someone must be dying. This winter he really showed me he cared by calling every few weeks. I shook my head in bewilderment, but understood what he was doing. He was loving me in a way that he could.
Dad learned how to be my father when I was a legal adult. It was late, but not too late. I'm glad it happened.