17 June 2012


My father is a great man.  He is a great provider.  He pushes all of his children to be better.  He made sure that we were able to go to school and get around easily.  He is a strong man.

Through his buying techniques, he has helped me learn the benefits and strategies for haggling and getting a lower price.  I was able to use it to get a few extras in my car.

His drive to have me reach the upper tier of my profession has me questioning what I want to do in my life - in a good way.

His always trying to be better at his own job is so impressive.  His continuing athleticism is still impressive.  He impresses me all the time.

When I look back to my childhood, I always compare my father to Dr. Huxtable.  My dad always had a clever joke, or a silly face to lighten a mood.  But he was always stern when he needed to be.  He is a doctor, too and I loved that he even had the Cosby-sweaters.  Being called into his room was always a bit frightening because I didn't know what was going to happen.  He would have me sit and would talk very little, though still, somehow, be saying a lot.  Sometimes these meetings would end in a reprimand.  Other times, they would end with my father giving me monetary assistance for something I was trying to do.

I always loved when I was really small and me and my siblings would play around my dad as he watched some baseball or tennis on tv.  We would move his legs as he stayed on the couch and pretend his legs were part of a car door.

When I think of my father, I think of a man who has supported in my education and my occupation.

I also think of a man who didn't always seem open to talk about personal issues - his or mine.  I sometimes think that my silence with friends and family in times when there should be talking comes from my watching him do the same.  A mechanism to protect himself and myself from people seeing the not so powerful sides of me.  I know that as a grown person, I shouldn't be using these things as an excuse, but I think that decades of these sort of conversations and of not sharing all parts of my life with my family members has made me more socially dysfunctional than I need to be.

But, I always love seeing my father.  Just yesterday, I was video chatting with some siblings and the parents and it was great seeing the joy in my father's face as he sat with them all and saw me on the screen.

I always remember how hearing him and my mother tell me that they were proud of me actually made me cry a few years ago.

This Stream of Consciousness Sunday post for allthingsfadra is about my father.  You can write about yours and his impact on you and your life and your family or just write about whatever else is on your mind on this day or future Sundays and link up with Fadra.

It just takes five minutes.


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