When A Father Dies Young
If I could have my father with me again for one day, how old would I be? Young, I think. Sitting on his lap or holding hands young? I think teenage years. I hope he would be a dad who would encourage his daughter to be her own person. To seek her own accomplishments and fate. He would have had to be a rare man to be of that mind, but there were a few of them back then, so it's not impossible.
In the one photo I have of us together, he is wearing a snappy hat and good suit. He looks satisfied. Secure enough to let his children know when he is proud of them. From time to time.
An absent father keeps your dream life close. Imagination keeps it going. Removed from disappointment, an absent father lives on as the "good listener." Not the real father I ache to have had, but still an influence.
The mind has room for everything.
This is from my book Joan Chandler Today.
I would be 46 as he lay dying. I would tell him again as I did that day…that I love him and appreciate all that he did for me. Jean
ReplyDeleteJoan, I’m not sure if you remember my Dad. I think we met after he died in ‘67. My relationship with him was sweet and it was complicated. He always used alcohol to sooth himself and it derailed his dreams alot. He was a mean drunk. But I guess he had a lot to try and forget. His father died in a mining accident when he was 3. His mother ran off and he was raised by his grandmother in a little Kentucky town that was fading away. He had one failed marriage in Evansville , Indiana where one of his two boys was hit by a truck and killed at 6 years old. He moved on to Chicago where he met a young married woman whose husband was off to war, and the pregnancy that resulted was me. Her forced divorce derailed her life. I still remember him as brilliant, kind, well liked by everyone with an amazing sense of humor……that was all forgotten when he drank….so sad
ReplyDeleteI’m not sure why my comment says Anonymous but it’s Fran Welch
ReplyDeleteI was lucky to have a dad who lived a long time, but the Great Depression told him to work at every opportunity, reducing his presence. Still, I was the first born and got the best of a good man, now gone 22 years. I, too, have thought of what one more day would be like, Joan. I'll bet he would have been thrilled with you.
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