When I was a kid my Dad was someone distant, and unreachable. We looked up to him as the sole bread earner. He used to go to work early every morning and come back with a grim face every evening. He spoke no nonsense, and we were taught not to raise his temper. He never knew, and was always confused over which of us was the younger kid, and I mistook this for aloofness.
Now a mother myself, I realize, during all the time he was transferred and we traveled, we had no worries because we knew Daddy knew his way about, and we knew we were safe as long as he was around. The only time we knew he cared for us was when we fell asleep in the car, and yet woke up in our beds the next morning. I always thought it was an angel that dropped me there but Mum told us it was Dad who lifted us!
Now with his daughters married, settled and having their own homes my Daddy is older. When we call he talks less, and I am surprised at times when the line cracks because even as I am talking to Mother, I know he is holding on to the parallel line and listening to us. Somehow it has always been heartwarming to know he does that! It shows he cares.
I cannot understand how children grow up and desert their parents at old age to fend for themselves!! Do they not know that it is their turn to play angel?
Labels: Daddy Dearest, My art of living, My world