It was lovely to see all the families picnicking along the waterfront today. Celebrating and paying homage to the special man in their lives.
I did not come from the seed of the man I call my father. His blood line does not flow through my veins yet I am closer to him than his own offspring. If you have read my Bio then you would know that I am adopted.
Dad was my world when I was a little girl. He would take me for rides through the country side on the back of his motorbike. We would go sailing together and may hours I would spend sitting, watching him build things in his man cave. We didn’t talk. In some respects we were very alike. There was no need for conversation. We just enjoyed each others presence.
My father can be quite aloof. My mother would describe him as emotionally stunted. My sisters no longer have any contact with him. They feel hurt and resentful towards him because he does not contact them.
He does not contact me either. Our relationship is somewhat one-sided. If I didn’t call him or go and see him, I would not see him at all. He’s always pleased to see/hear from me but I can’t remember him ever contacting me over these past decades. I accept him for who he is. I know that he doesn’t care for me any less and I don’t take his aloofness personally.
Today I invited him to my place for lunch. I haven’t seen him for about 4 months. He was unusually chatty. He spoke a little about his life as a child. I’ve never heard him talk about these things. I had many questions but not wanting to interrupt him and the flow of words that was coming, I kept quiet.