I always affirmed that you were not the best father. But today I understand I wasn’t the best daughter either.
As a grownup thinking of having my own children, I reflect on how much I expected from my own father.
Fathers are flesh and bone human beings with many troublesome flaws that try their best on raising up their children. However, the expectations are high. Too high.
I hope my children don’t have such high and selfish expectations as I did.
My father didn’t raise me. He never went to a Father Day’s celebration, he didn’t saw me perform at one of my dance recitals. Ironically he paid for the dance classes.
My father never gave me advice on things that mattered. Our conversations were limited to general topics. And for a great time of my life, my father believed my birthday was June 6th, when it really is June 2nd.
But my father never questioned my decisions. I like to think it was not because he didn’t care about me, but, that he felt he didn’t have the right to do it.
Our talks about general topics were the best. They were entertaining. He still gave me a birthday present no matter the date. He paid child support. He paid for my dance classes and for some of my dance costumes. He also gave me some of his books to read.
The older we got the less we saw each other. But even on our emails, we ended them with an I love you.
So you weren’t that bad of a father. I’ve seen worst. You weren’t the best. You were human.
As your daughter, I wasn’t that great either. I never gave you a present. Never wrote you a letter, just emails. I piled up the books you gave me but never read them. Sometimes I called you the day of your birthday, sometimes I waited to call you some days later.
We never took care of each other when we were sick. I don’t recall your presence during any of my colds or fevers. However, I wasn’t aware of your illness and I missed the opportunity of taking care of you and saying a proper goodbye.
I believe we weren’t present in each other’s life.
But in a weird way, we loved each other.
There is too much pressure on how parents should be. There are so many “good parenting” and “bad parenting” labels that it’s hard to follow. Sure parents need to be involved in their children upbringing. Parents need to make sure they raise good citizens. Parents should be able to give their kids love. But now, with so many expectations it is scary to become a parent.
If I was my father’s friend I would have been able to understand him better. I was his daughter and I judged him for not being a better father. Now he is gone. He passed away less than a month ago. Now there is nothing left to say, but at least I´m trying to understand and learned from our relationship.
Parents are humans.
My father was human.
I’m human.
We are simply flawed beings trying to do our best in this world.
Now my mother is still alive. She was not a typical mother, but she was a good mom. Let me focus on being a better daughter for my mother.
To my flawed father, from her very human daughter.
