When I was starting to hit puberty, my mother got a severe depression, culminating in a suicide attempt. I remember her for the following ten-ish years as just sitting on her chair and reading or in her bed. When she managed to have a shower, it was a great day for her.
My father managed it all. Still had his taxing job, but now doing all the household, cooking, raising the kids and being supportive for my mother. He was there as father, as provider, as a husband. Eventually my mother was healing and back to her former, energetic self.
I don’t know how my father did it, honestly. My wife and I are struggling with managing our two children as is, if my wife were out of the equation I’d collapse immediately. Granted, my sister and I were a lot older than my kids are now, when shit hit the fan, but still…crazy impressive.
So yeah, basically he is a role model in perseverance and a lot of other things.
My father died when I was a baby
I was a loser who didn’t seek a real job until I was 25, and didn’t get my shit together and move out until I was 30, but despite all that my dad always loved me and never so much as pushed me. Gentle encouragement from time to time, but always just glad to have his boy around. I live in a different country with my wife now. I have a beautiful daughter and a decent, stable job. We flew my dad out a few years ago and I’ve never seen him so proud of what I’ve become. He loved my daughter so much. We took him out to the Canadian Rockies. That trip meant the world to him.
He had a heart attack and died two years ago.
As tragic as it all is, I watched the emotional shit he went through over the way his father raised him, and his father’s suicide when I was too young to remember, and he made it a point to make sure I never had to wonder if he loved me or was proud of me. He was.
I hope his soul is flying through the universe somewhere and has seen how much my daughter has grown, and has seen my awesome new house. I sprinkle his ashes around my flower gardens every spring just to keep him around. I hope he’s around.
Love you, dad.
Realizing that my father was a coward killing goat herders from a billion dollar jet, not a hero like I thought growing up.
Who?
Some parents are just not woth the title.
I know my comment was low effort. I appreciate the supportive response anyway, even if it wasn’t that well deserved.
Thank you.
When I found out he had neglected to tell me that I have an inheritable disease that will suddenly just outright kill me one day, unless I get regular checkups. Other than that there just isn’t that much I know about him, he never told me about himself and we rarely meet.
I have so many stark lasting memories of my dad, good and bad it’s hard to pick the one with the greatest impact.
Maybe the time I watched him have an allergic reaction to an ssri that ended in 6 cops beating him unconscious and dragging him to jail.
Maybe the time he unprompted pulled $800 out of his wallet and handed it to the lady at the laundry mat who was stressed about paying her rent that month.
Maybe the time my friends and I showed up at 2am with bath salts and he did a little toot with us.
Maybe the time he sat with me in the kitchen until the wee hours of the night playing chess while I cried about being broken up with for the first time.
My mom would always fuss that I’d drip water on the floor after a shower. After one such fussing, my dad took the time to actually give me advice on how to towel off properly, so as not to drip. (LPT: start from the top, work your way down)
Anyways, he was the more patient parent and would try and help you succeed.
One time I fell backwards from the ladder to the treehouse my dad built. I summersaulted backwards like twice as I fell but I was completely fine. But the look of worry and how fast he ran is something I’ll never forget. It made me realize how much he cares.
Any good memories of my Dad are overwritten by the child abuse. I would’ve been better off being raised by a single mother. Today is… complicated.
Solidarity. I can say that from the other side of that coin, it’s not always better… Divorced when I was 12, I told my mother “about fucking time” and got slapped.
My single mother later destroyed my teenage years and 20s. She died and it took 10 years for the financial fraud to fall away. I’m still working to escape damage from her extorting and manipulating me by threatening to accuse me of molesting my daughter with several of her friends willing to lie to police.
I hope you at least came away with positives to build with.
I’m so sorry, that sounds awful. I did get lucky in the sense that I had one good enough parent, which is honestly probably while I’m still alive and doing alright. I still talk to my Mom on a weekly basis. She had a lot of unwinding to do after her divorce. It’s tricky to get an abusive narcissist out of your head. They have a way of living there.
I hope you’re doing better! Your perseverance is admirable as hell.
Sometimes getting through adversity and hardship can make us into better, tougher, and more empathetic adults than we would’ve been if our childhoods had been easier. I hope that’s the case for you.
It’s tricky to get an abusive narcissist out of your head. They have a way of living there.
No joke! That’s been the worst!
I’m glad you still have her around, and the chance to share time without the negatives.
I am. My 21 year old daughter has been evidence that I’m doing something ok despite, and it’s amazing.
One of the most healing things so far has been the fact that I can look back and feel confident that I was right every time I thought “this feels like it is wrong and should be different”. My daughter still finds me regularly for spontaneous hugs and any time something needs fixing that she hadn’t figured out yet.
I hope you find a similar chance. It’s deserved.
some fathers suck
that man is a racist, misogynistic, child beating, wife beating, cat killing, rapist piece of shit.
my very first memory, punching him in the nose and bloodying it when I was a 4yo because he wouldn’t stop picking on me and calling me a chicken-shit. He was proud of me and stopped picking on me after I finally hit him because I wasn’t acting like a chicken shit. He was likely drunk.
I dunno if he’s still alive but I hope he’s sad and lonely today because nobody on earth likes him much less his children.
When he died, we all could finally breathe.
Unfortunately for mine, that stubborn son of a bitch is still hanging around into his 80’s, while the rest of his miserable family had the decent common courtesy to kick it in their 60’s & 70’s. I went no contact about a decade ago, but I still get to hear how much of a piece of shit he is from the rest of the family.
The only positive that came from him is that I turned out to be a better father than he did. I have a good relationship with my nearly adult kids.
I flat celebrated my father’s death. The upside was he instilled equality of gender well, and considering the 80s that wasn’t common around middle USA.
Father’s Day is complex for me. Balancing my adult daughter bringing it for me vs memories of mine takes effort.
I came out to him over christmas 2 years ago and that’s the last time he’s spoken to me. His last words to me before he read my letter were “Love you always”
He doesn’t deserve you.
Yeah it’s sad realizing my parent’s love really was conditional
I’ll be your dad, if you want. 🫂
This is the type of story I was expecting on Lemmy
My dad is a Linux user so I guess being introduced to Linux lmao
Also the time he built a bluetooth boombox. And the time he modified old Roombas to be remote controlled.
One of us!
