Fathers Day

Today is Fathers Day.

What can I say about my father?

He was not an easy man to live with. He was bipolar, although my mother and I had no idea at the time what that was. All I know is that he would be moody for months at a time, not talking to us. Then all of a sudden, one morning, he would wake us all up and whip us into action, whatever action he felt was necessary.

With other people, he was the life of the party. Pleasant to be with, full of stories to tell, and proud of his wife and only daughter. But with my mother and I, he was another person. Whatever we did, it was never good enough.

After 40 years of marriage with my mother, they went through an ugly divorce that lasted 7 years. I did not want to get involved, but when my father called me up and wanted to force me to testify against my mother in front of the judge, that is when I cut all ties with him. And that is when the Dion family cut all ties with me. And when my grandmother died, nobody told me. And when my Aunt Yvette died, nobody told us, my mother and I. And when my father died, I found out by reading the local newspaper. I still don't know if he was buried, or where.

If I try real hard, I can remember good moments in my childhood with my father, but they were rare and far between. So I still remain a bit uncertain of what a good father should be. There is this unfulfilled space in my soul.