There are often posts in My Small Corner about women. What can I say? Its a topic I can’t help but be interested in, being one and all that.
But this weekend, in honour of Fathers’ Day (et Fête des Pères), I wanted to post briefly about men. I can’t help but be interested in them either, but for entirely different reasons, you understand.
I’m reading a book, whose title shall remain a secret for now (I hope to blog through it a bit, so don’t want to raise expectations or spoil the surprise!), and I’m glad it arrived when it did. I’ve just read the Introduction and the first chapter and already it has given me stuff to think about in regards to my Daddy.
He’s what some people might call the ‘strong, silent type’ – maybe not outside of the home (he is a salesman after all), but growing up and still now, conversations between myself and my dad are short and sweet. The effects of this common father-daughter relationship are the stuff of psychotherapy dreams I’m sure and often leave me not really knowing what to think about our relationship.
But what I realised in reading is that my Dad has worked a job his entire life which is really hard graft for sometimes minimal return. Why? Did he choose this kind of work? Did he, as a little boy, dream of trying to sell goods in order to eke out a living for his wife and three children? Probably not the stuff of dreams for him. However he took his culturally assumed responsibility as ‘primary breadwinner’ seriously and did what he could to make sure we grew up with food in our bellies and a roof over our heads.
Sure, the divorce of my parents is no fairytale ending to what was/is our ‘family’. The way it all played out was no ideal either. The consequences are ongoing and the pain still real; the temptation to point fingers and shake heads is hardly negligable and yet…
I am grateful that he spent himself on providing for me the best way he could, the only way he knew how and he did a good job.
Thanks Daddy. I love you. Happy Fathers’ Day.