Sometimes I get frustrated with my dad. He's an old guy, a widower, a bit set in his ways and I find myself impatient. I adore my dad. I was always a daddy's girl growing up, eager to impress him. The truth is, these things never really change.
Since my mom died we see each other a lot. He lives around the corner now and is a huge help shuttling my kids to hockey and soccer and swimming and running. He loves to cheer them on and socialize with the parents. He is often overheard bragging about their abilities or discussing quantum physics or lecturing on European history. He is a good man and my kids adore their "Bobo".
Sometimes I forget how his life changed the day my mom died. How the life he envisioned for himself - for the two of them - is merely an impossible fantasy now. He does such a good job of accepting his life now and putting on a brave face that I lose sight of the nights alone and the vacations for 1.
I am hard on him. When his stories go on a bit too long or his jokes are a tad inappropriate I often roll my eyes and, I am ashamed to say, shut him down.
But the other day was an eye-opener. I was putting my 13 year-old son to bed and he said to me, "You were being mean to Bobo tonight. I felt bad for him." I felt sick. I couldn't sleep all night and I called my dad first thing the next day to apologize. He said, "I know I sometimes go on a bit too long. The teasing? That is just our dynamic." But it has been days and I still feel terrible. Why can I not be more patient? Why can't I, like my 13 year-old, accept him and laugh with him at his jokes and enjoy the foibles of an old guy telling his already too long story for the 2nd or 3rd time?
I don't know. But what I do know is that I am going to make an effort. I will bite my tongue and smile. I will remember how lucky I am to have him and remind myself how much he has been through and how much I can learn from him. Because someday it will be me, if I am lucky. Someday I will be the old lady telling stories and jokes to my children and grandchildren. I want them to be patient and to remember who I am and who I was and that, even though I am now getting old, I want them to remember that we were all young once.
My handsome dad in his younger days with his whole life ahead of him.
Fantastic post, Jen, and definitely rings true for me too. You're right to step back and recognize how fortunate we are to have our fathers around and how lucky our kids are. I, too, roll my eyes when my father starts tripping down memory lane, but the kids love the stories and I adore the relationship that they have with their "Juge".
Really great post Jen. It's hard to balance everything on our plates but when you come down to it that 4th commandment, "Honor thy mother and father", isn't just to remind the little kids not to sass us. Good on you for calling your faults as you see them, working to make the necessary changes and reminding us reflect on our own situations.
I think it's so great that you thought about the "wrongness", and called in the morning to make it right - you've got your Big Girl panties on... brava, lady. And it's a great thing for your kids to see, too. It's hard to be patient, especially when patterns have already been set. Sending hugs your way. xox
Jen - i just sent this to my siblings. We're all really guilty of being mean to my dad. Much like you, there is lots of eye rolling, impatience and general mocking of him by all four of us. I wouldn't beat yourself up though, you addressed it and he gets it. He was probably like that with his own parents....
Such a well written post Jen - thanks for making me think.
He actually read it, Sara, and emailed me to say that he knows we love him and remembers feeling this way about his parents too. But still. I want to stop for myself and also I want my kids to see me treating him respectfully and lovingly.
Now if he could only stop driving me nuts ;)
Hi Jen, Liz showed me your post and it made me smile after catching up with you and your Dad at Jamie's place on Monday. Your Dad's a great guy - and he can certainly tell a story! I think everyone occasionally catches a glimpse of themselves that shocks a bit, but not everyone has the courage and love to dive in, apologise and deal with it so positively. We both found this one thought provoking, makes you wonder about your own family relationships.
Oh Joe! Thank you for this. I was so embarrassed after my boy called me out knowing that you were exposed to this behaviour on your visit. I admit, I was nervous about putting this out there. It is hard to expose the unattractive side of oneself, be honest and take responsibility but, I wanted to own it. Plus, I wanted my son to know that he has a voice that matters and what he said to me made a real difference and made me think.
Hugs to you and your houseful of girls!
Thank you Jen for this reminder of what is important.
I am also guilty of eye rolling and impatience. It's time for an attitude shift for me.
Bobo rocks!
Bobo does rock, Er. I just forget sometimes. And wasn't he a handsome young man? That's what he said when he sent me the pic ;)
Funny, my kids are horrified when I say something harsh to my mom and yet, when I point out all the harsh things they say to me, they say it's not the same!
my mom is really short with my grandmother and it's starting to really bug me. i realize they have a shaky past but she is still my grandmother and the things she says to me shouldn't be said to a granddaughter. i'm pretty sure there are people out there who would give anything to have a 92 year old mother!
Such a great and honest post Jen. We all do it and catch ourselves. So incredibly brave to share it and own it.
What a fantastic reminder for all of us who having aging parents. Thanks for sharing your story. It hit me - made me tear up. I have been guilty of "tuning out" at times even though I love my parents to bits. This just made me stop and think I need more patience and to remember every day how lucky I am to have them here. Thank you.
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Hey Arna, Arna may be the very good sister ! Ilene, the older of my two sisters, stabbed me inside the head that has a pair of scissors after i was about 6; she was 4. She used a hammer on my head once i was about 8. We even now get along great to this day! While we did not have a sand box we experienced a fantastic rock garden in front in the dwelling at 2046 East 38th St. from the Marine Park section of Brooklyn. I performed on the rock piles for several hours along with the toy soldierslead of coursethat my late Dad would get for me as presents. They were painted brown and green and silver. But Arna didn't know of that rock pile as she arrived along ten several years following me. I in fact had a 3rd sister, Carla who was born ahead of me. But she died from infantile diarrhea at about two weeks of age. That even though my Dad was already overseas for WWII. A tough time for my Mom for convinced. But she has survived properly.
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At this point he should really pretend he's not President and operate to 'throw the bums out".
February 21st, 2011 at 9:17 am