Thank you everyone for your kind comments on Friday’s post. I really appreciate each and every one of them.
I never liked my father (click
here to read the original post). Now he is dead and
I feel awful that I did not like him more. I
should have liked him more. Maybe I could have liked him more if I had
tried harder.
I do not like my father for two reasons. First, a lot of my dislike of my father stems from me being my
mother’s confidant growing up. As her sounding board, I took on much of my mother’s anger toward my father so that she did not have to. Then she could gush about how wonderful he was and what a great marriage they had.
Second,
my father never seemed to like me. My mother said that he liked me, that he loved me and that I was his princess but, he often acted like he could not stand me. When I would get angry at the way he treated me my mother would say that it was because of his low self esteem and
I needed to be more understanding.
I guess that
everyone else liked my father. According to her she has been inundated by calls and letters from people who liked him. People who had nothing but, fond
memories of him. I wish one of them was me.