I never knew how to feel about Father’s Day.
As a little girl, I probably was obligated to make a card for my father in school. As I grew older and sparred with him verbally, I chose not to celebrate Father’s Day. My father was not the “World’s Best Dad” or “No.1 Dad” — I knew this at a young age. Then as adult, I eventually understood that he knew he had made mistakes as a parent and father, and I had started to meet him for lunch or dinner and share my life with him.
My father was not the “World’s Best Dad” or “No.1 Dad” — I knew this at a young age.
Last year he had another stroke, and I became his caretaker.
And then Sunday was Father’s Day.
It had occurred to me to get him a card, or enlarge a photo that he indicated he liked, or do something to mark the occasion. After all, he is still alive, aware of his surroundings and continues to make progress during therapy.
But making the journey from Orange County to L.A. for his appointments (three or four a week, depending on his therapists’ and acupuncturist’s schedules) is not easy, and the physical and emotional strain is high.
I accompanied him to acupuncture Saturday, and the coward in me thought it might be best to not acknowledge the holiday. If I did, I knew I would start crying, and then I would surely upset him. While I have told him that we both made mistakes and that I would prefer to have him in my life, there are so many little things we have not said.
As it turned out, I was in the area after all on Sunday.
My compromise with myself was to stop in on him at the skilled nursing facility, say hello, ask him how he was doing and let him know I’d be back in two days to accompany him to speech therapy. I told him my visit would be brief because I was on my scooter and wanted to get home before traffic became too heavy and the day became night.
He raised his arm and moved his hand in a way to indicate he felt so-so on this day, and after a few more questions I said goodbye.
The stroke has changed him, especially physically, but even before that, he had been humbled by other strokes and age. He was no longer the commanding and frightening authority figure. He became a man who waned to communicate with his children, although he lacked the tools to do so.
The stroke has changed him, especially physically, but even before that, he had been humbled by other strokes and age. He was no longer the commanding and frightening authority figure. He became a man who wanted to communicate with his children, although he lacked the tools to do so.
I am certain I am not the only one who feels ambivalence or confusion on this holiday. Even the president of the United States has complicated feelings towards a father he hardly knew. It brought me some comfort to read the article about the trove of letters written by Barack Obama, Sr., preserved, sitting in a box, awaiting the day his son is ready to read them.