For the first time in forty or more years, I am posting about my dad on Father's Day.. I am almost 70. He died when I was 19. He was a good father. For so much of my life he has seemed the distant past.
He was rational in his conversations to me in my teens. His own parents thought fairy tales were silly so he loved reading them to me when I was small because he didn't know how the stories came out, either. And since they were read for his only surviving child of three, he hoped with all his heart they had a happy ending.
He couldn't help himself, thank God. He taught me a little about banking and finance. In many ways, he was a feminist. But. He still expected some man to take care of me.
He had no siblings. My mother had an unmarried brother. No big congregations in our house of family, any time.
I do have cousins, both sides, which for some reason my parents seldom saw and I saw infrequently enough that I am unclear exactly who they were. My granddaughters have a lot of family through their mother. Their paternal grandfather has a lot of family. My own personal family is discrete. Two sons, daughter-in-law and granddaughters.
They are well loved.
Because my dad made sure that was one of the skills he taught me.