a-ba
My dad sometimes runs into the fry cook I work with at the Chinese restaurant on Fridays. The old man speaks absolutely no English and is constantly teasing me for having tattoos and for not being able to speak Chinese well.
Last night he got really close to my face and asked me what I got my dad for Father's Day. I told him that I got him a pair of shoes and sunglasses. He cut me off and said "I know. I know what you got him. Your dad tells me that out of all his children, you love him the most and treat him the best. He really loves you."
This was the best thing I've heard in a long time. I always thought that my dad and I had a really special relationship, unique to the ones he shared with my siblings. Growing up, my sisters and I were accustomed to a family life void of outward sentiments of love - never hugged, no one ever told us they loved us, never rewarded or praised for our accomplishments or good deeds.
In elementary school, my dad would put us all to bed at the same time, but would come in a couple hours later just to wake me up to watch wrestling with him. Any time I couldn't sleep, I'd sneak into my parents' room and while my mom yelled at me to go back to bed, my dad would stay up and watch TV with me or stretch my legs to ease the growing pains until I fell asleep. In high school my sister and I fought nonstop. My mom would scream at me for doing this or that to my sister and I'd end up crying and leaving for a long drive. My dad was never there when the fighting was happening, but he always found out when he got home. He'd call me to tell me that he loved me and that he knew it wasn't my fault. I have never heard him tell any of my siblings that he loves them - not because he doesn't, I think it's because plainly, he doesn't feel comfortable enough with them. I came right home any time he called, despite how I felt toward my mom and sister. He'd be waiting in the garage to give me a hug and walk me to my room.
My sisters resent him for his strange behavior, always calling him crazy. They think I'm soft because I can never be mad at him when he fucks up. My dad has experienced so many incredibly fucked up things that I can't even begin to imagine or begin to tell anyone else - I'm honestly shocked that he is still alive and functioning. He is the most amazing man I have ever known because he has THE kindest heart despite all the shit he's been through.
I want nothing more than for my dad to let go of all the guilt that weighs on him so heavily and for him to live the life he's been working his entire life for. It fucking kills me to see him work 20-hour days with no days off. And even when he does have a day off, he stays at home watching TV because he doesn't know what else to do. I offer to take him to basketball games or to dinner, but he declines because he doesn't want me to spend money on him.
All I want is to take care of him. My biggest fear is that I won't be able to get my shit together in enough time to do that for him and my mom. I'm sad that my sisters don't feel the same responsibility, but I guess I'm really really honored that I do.
Last night he got really close to my face and asked me what I got my dad for Father's Day. I told him that I got him a pair of shoes and sunglasses. He cut me off and said "I know. I know what you got him. Your dad tells me that out of all his children, you love him the most and treat him the best. He really loves you."
This was the best thing I've heard in a long time. I always thought that my dad and I had a really special relationship, unique to the ones he shared with my siblings. Growing up, my sisters and I were accustomed to a family life void of outward sentiments of love - never hugged, no one ever told us they loved us, never rewarded or praised for our accomplishments or good deeds.
In elementary school, my dad would put us all to bed at the same time, but would come in a couple hours later just to wake me up to watch wrestling with him. Any time I couldn't sleep, I'd sneak into my parents' room and while my mom yelled at me to go back to bed, my dad would stay up and watch TV with me or stretch my legs to ease the growing pains until I fell asleep. In high school my sister and I fought nonstop. My mom would scream at me for doing this or that to my sister and I'd end up crying and leaving for a long drive. My dad was never there when the fighting was happening, but he always found out when he got home. He'd call me to tell me that he loved me and that he knew it wasn't my fault. I have never heard him tell any of my siblings that he loves them - not because he doesn't, I think it's because plainly, he doesn't feel comfortable enough with them. I came right home any time he called, despite how I felt toward my mom and sister. He'd be waiting in the garage to give me a hug and walk me to my room.
My sisters resent him for his strange behavior, always calling him crazy. They think I'm soft because I can never be mad at him when he fucks up. My dad has experienced so many incredibly fucked up things that I can't even begin to imagine or begin to tell anyone else - I'm honestly shocked that he is still alive and functioning. He is the most amazing man I have ever known because he has THE kindest heart despite all the shit he's been through.
I want nothing more than for my dad to let go of all the guilt that weighs on him so heavily and for him to live the life he's been working his entire life for. It fucking kills me to see him work 20-hour days with no days off. And even when he does have a day off, he stays at home watching TV because he doesn't know what else to do. I offer to take him to basketball games or to dinner, but he declines because he doesn't want me to spend money on him.
All I want is to take care of him. My biggest fear is that I won't be able to get my shit together in enough time to do that for him and my mom. I'm sad that my sisters don't feel the same responsibility, but I guess I'm really really honored that I do.