Turn the page….

This past Saturday was the first time I’ve ever heard my father weep.  Having already been told by my brother that my uncle Matti had died that day, I called my father in South Carolina. His machine answered and I left a message, wondering where he might have gone to having just heard the news. When he called me back I realized he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was bereft, could hardly speak through tears I knew were falling, but that I would never have expected. And I was, unusually, at a loss for words.

My father and I have not been close for many, many years. I never felt like “daddy’s little girl”, so much so that I didn’t even allow that song to played for our dance at my wedding. I have no recollection of what was played and it’ s certainly of no importance this far down the line. He and I have come to a good place in our relationship, beneficiaries of both time and tide and the beginnings of the role reversal that inevitably takes place between parent and child. Continue reading

Advertisements