Thanks with all my heart, everyone, for the beautiful thoughts. And a special thank you to Richard.
I spoke with my father the other night. As Alzheimered-out as he is, he is still the wisest person I have ever encountered. He used to beat the crap out of us for doing something like leaving an unwashed spoon in the sink, but whenever it was something critical like, in my case, being pregnant at 18 or, in my brother's case, being arrested, he was the epitome of calm and rational understanding.
Daddy told me, when I whined to him about feeling like a failure, "All I did was raise 7 children, and I can't think of anything more worthwhile".
Not true. Daddy overcame a terrible childhood. While he was very young, his parents divorced. His father, although having no interest in his children, kidnapped them and brought them to live in Alabama where he had relatives look after them - merely to spite his ex-wife. Daddy's mother fought long and hard to bring them back to Pennsylvania but, once back, they had to live in foster homes and orphanages where they were routinely abused. (This was in the early 30s.) Eventually, Nana married a fine man whose name I am privileged to carry. He was a wonderful husband to her, a loving father to Daddy, and the best grandfather to me and my 6 siblings.
Daddy was skinny and undernoursished and endured much teasing during his formative years, along with the physical and emotional abuse. He once told me, in an unguarded moment, of having vomited while in the foster home due to being ill and then being forced, by his foster parents, to eat that vomit.
I know. Worse than heartbreaking. And that was the least of it.
Daddy enlisted in the Navy when he was 17 - as brilliant as he was, he was failing senior year in high school, and he was told he would pass if he enlisted. When he came back from fighting in WWII, he met the only person in his life whom he felt ever believed in him - my mother.
My mother gently but lovingly pushed my father to go to college. When he stated, flatly, "What, me go to college?", she replied, simply, "Yes. You can do it. You will do it."
And he did.
Mind you, this was a man who was extremely intelligent, but who had no belief in himself. My mother believed in him. She was so gently and lovingly persistent in her belief, he said later he felt he had to follow through. But then, my mother was, quite simply, the most breathtakingly beautiful (physically and spiritually) woman I have ever known.
Daddy finished college when I was 7. He had a B.S. in Accountancy. What he really wanted to do was teach, but he pursued the degree he felt would best support his growing family. Another sacrifice. But I don't feel he ever considered it such.
I am grateful, when I phone him, that he still knows who I am. I know the day is coming when he will not. But he made me feel so much better about the choices I have made in my life. Daddy was simply resonating with pride that he raised seven (what he perceives to be) intelligent, beautiful, caring, decent, loving children.
Had my father not done so, then I would not be here to worry about MY choices in life.
Never mind the screaming over the dirty spoon in the sink. My father has always been able to point out what really matters in life.
Daddy, I do love you.
