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.
Who?
Some parents are just not worth 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.
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.
I worked with my dad for 20 years. He taught me almost everything I know about building houses. But I think the two biggest things were, how to deal with tricky clients (this applies to all people, not just clients), and how to come at everything with a relaxed style. He used to say he spent a lot of money in the '60s developing his attitude.
My dad is… complicated, and I could tell a lot of insane stories. But the memory that is haunting me is how he said “we won’t wait when war starts”, in Russian. It made no sense. I overheard it as a part of some conversation with my mother (maybe other grown ups as well) when I was a kid and I asked what he meant and he claimed he didn’t remember saying that. I believe him that he didn’t remember. But it was odd, it’s not something he would say. Neither he, nor my mom, nor their friends are political people talking about war, ever. It was said casually, but no one ever casually talked about war or politics over here. This was 25 years ago. I kept thinking about it for years and years again, trying to grasp what it meant, what it might have meant, and why it stuck with me so much, why I couldn’t get it out of my head, why I couldn’t let it go.
It was also painfully screaming in my head when Russia attacked Ukraine in 2022. It’s like it was an eerie foreshadowing but I still don’t know. I have so few memories of my childhood, why did this one stay? Why do I see and hear him say this? What did he mean with “we won’t wait”? Did he mean we won’t wait for the war to start or we won’t wait when the war will have started? Both are possible interpretations in the Russian wording. What are we waiting for? Are we still waiting? What should we be doing?
I keep going back to this one stupid sentence and this memory is ringing in my ears. What does it want to tell me to do? I know I need to do something, I just can’t figure out what.
This could all depend on where you’re living. I get the impression you’re in a country that may have been or may currently be an enemy of Russia (or thought of as a threat by those running Russia right now). If that’s the case, could your folks be Russian ops in some form?
They would have stopped having those sorts of conversations around you as you got older and they’d deny that they said anything of the sort for those you did remember.
The phrase “we won’t wait (for) when the war starts” could mean that they’re going to do whatever they need to do even if there’s no actual guns, bombs and fighting going on. You know. Cold war things.
There’s that phrase that Khrushchev allegedly said about the US, for example. Putin has revived all of that. Assuming it ever went away.
Realizing that my father was a coward killing goat herders from a billion dollar jet, not a hero like I thought growing up.
My dad wasn’t perfect, but he always did what was best for my mom and I. He worked his ass off doing a number of labor jobs (carpentry, mechanic, electrical, plumbing, etc) and was a jack of all trades. He dropped out his sophomore year in the 70s to help support his parents when his dad had a stroke and just kept working the labor jobs. He was well known enough in the plumbing business that when Disney was planning another hotel they asked for him by name to lead the plumbing project.
When all that hard labor caught up with him and he had his back surgery, it threw him on his ass and disability. He still kept working on stuff after recovering, rebuilt his uncle’s Willy’s he had found, swapping motors out of his truck when he eventually killed it, doing home renovations, everything. All while trying to teach my dumbass some of what he knew so I’d know something useful. I learned a lot from him, but not nearly all of what he knew. He was a stubborn hard ass so he liked things done a certain way and would sometimes get frustrated if I wasn’t doing it right, but never in a “I’m going to scream at you because you fucked up” kinda way.
It took me until he was diagnosed with cancer to realize why he had always been a hard ass and pushing me to do better, he didn’t want me to follow his footsteps and he stuck doing these hard labor jobs, destroying my body like he did his. Sorry that didn’t work out, old man.
It’s not really a particular memory of my dad that impacted me, it’s basically his whole memory of him that did. I’ve had lots of great memories with him, but everything he always did was for his family first, he was very selfless. I wouldn’t be who I am today without my dad.
Happy father’s day, dad. Miss you.
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.
When he died, we all could finally breathe.
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.
My dad, my brother(13) and I (16) were on a resort scuba dive (we borrow their gear, and get a ride on their boat, and follow their leader during the dive). Descending down a line, with my dad following the dive lead, then me, then my brother.
About 60 feet deep, I see my dad jerk suddenly, followed by a bunch of bubbles. I see him grab his octopus… Another spasm and more bubbles.
I watch as he swims down to the dive leader, and grabs his octopus, taking in and releasing a breath. He signals to dive lead he needs to surface. Dive lead grabs his octopus and replaced it with my dad’s original regulator… Another spasm, and he begins emergency surfacing. My brother and I follow. Dive lead has a Merry dive all alone.
At the surface, we find that the rubber bits on my dad’s equipment (regulator, and octopus) had deteriorated, and broken at depth. He had lungs full of water, and spent the next half hour barfing and coughing it up.
That’s about all I got, still brings me to tears twenty some odd years later to just think about it
I had to look up what “octopus” means in terms of diving equipment to alleviate myself of a mental image of each of you diving with a little sea creature friend snuggled up on you, which for some reason you’d grab if distressed.
Thank you. I was really confused and had to read it a couple of times. A first read made me think the dad started jerking off with an octopus and this went downhill.
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”
I’ll be your dad, if you want. 🫂
He doesn’t deserve you.
Yeah it’s sad realizing my parent’s love really was conditional