14. Dad

I've been putting this one off a bit, because it's complicated.

Growing up we did not have the best relationship.  He was a good provider, and was home every night, but never went out of his way to do much extra for us kids (though there were exceptions).  He never hit us, or anything like that, but he usually wasn't particularly nice.  Most homework sessions, and all Hebrew lessons ended with me in tears.  He never said it, but I really felt stupid.  There were no hugs, or I love you's.

But there was good stuff too.  He told great stories.  Anecdotes from his youth, and time in the Peace Corps.  He told us about history, and science.  He read to us every night from chapter books.  We read all of the Little House series, Black Beauty, Alice in Wonderland, Boxcar Children, and others I'm forgetting. He would always let us watch whatever he was watching (though that may have been a negative at times).  For a while, maybe in middle school, we went ice skating at this outdoor rink in Palo Alto, every Sunday night.  (And whenever the elementary school would have a roller rink night, he would go, he really liked that kind of think).  And he was funny, and (still is) one of the smartest people I know.

In my teens things were not good between us.  I can't remember any particular thing, but it just wasn't good.  I was convinced that at the first opportunity, I'd leave and never look back.

But that didn't happen.  I stayed there when my mom and sisters left.  And I stayed all of college.  And Aaron and I stayed there when we were first married.  Dad didn't charge us rent.

The turning point was when Aaron and I moved to Utah.  Dad's health took a bad turn, he broke his arm, and had bi-lateral hip replacements and the Crohns diagnosis.  When things got worse for him, they got better for us.  Odd as that may sound.  He became very generous and sent checks for birthdays.  And if we were in a jam, he send money no questions asked (except how much do you need?).

Aaron and I moved in with him again for 6 months or so after returning to California.  There were still health issues, and we were able to help with that. And things there better.

But I was still resentful.  And every Father's Day at church was awful.  I had to hear about all these great relationships, and there I was with none of that.  Then, one day, I had an epiphany.  He did the best he could.  And that changed everything.

His childhood was not great.  His mother was very often mean, or downright cruel.  There was corporal punishment in his house, despite not doing anything that would warrant it.  He did well in school, didn't cause trouble, and followed the rules.  Nothing was ever good enough for his mother.  And all of that sank in.  He didn't beat us, he didn't berate us.  He helped with our homework the only way he knew how.  He read to us daily, and taught us a lot.

And at this point, I can say I love my dad a lot.  He has done more for me than either he or I will ever know.  His health issues still linger, which is scary.  (And so odd considering he led a really healthy life.  He was always active, never over weight, didn't smoke, drink, or eat badly, and yet everything still went bad.)