September hath thirty days, and now they have gone. This month was my Dad's birthday. I have not written about my Dad, except when I mention him in a story about something else. I know little about him. He was a very private person. He would talk about the past, until Mom got mad and told him to stop living in the past. He never mentioned anything again. Not even when I asked him about his childhood or his parents. Yet, at the same time, he must have said something occasionally, because, I have always felt I have always known him, all my life and all his life.
He was always there for me. And always wanted the best for me. ^You know, many men don't know how to relate to their daughters. But, my Poppa had four sisters and he was close to his Mother. So, he was sympathetic to women. He was a very handsome man and women liked him for his looks and manners. Even though he was a second son. He was the one his family depended on. Made some difficulty when he married. It was hard for him to realize he had to put us first and and his birth family second. That situation was always needing to be resolved.
My Mom had to be tough on him once in awhile. No, he wasn't 'henpecked'. Mom knew better than that.
My brothers were always jealous of me. They said our parents treated me different. I finally said to my younger brother, of course they did, I'm a girl. Girls always had it harder, because of the social attitude. I did better in school, even though school was not easy for me either.
For my Dad and Mom, getting an education was their dearest wish. But, neither of them got to finish high school. The economy crashed and there went their dreams. So, when they had kids, they hoped and encouraged us.
My Dad was able able to pay my way through college. He was happy to do it. And he also helped some of my nephews too. It made him very happy and proud to do it.
He tended to be too generous to me, yes, I know. He didn't want to spoil me so I had to be careful what I asked for. We were always close. I was never afraid of my father. He never laid a hand on me. The few times I was spanked, Mom did it. Mostly a good scold was enough to set me straight. I hated being yelled at.
Oh, no, Poppa wasn't perfect, he was a kind generous man. He had no enemies, anyone who met him liked him immediately. He made friends easily. I think Mom was quite jealous of that.
Poppa died in October-26-1986. I miss him everyday. As I do my Mother.
Took me a long time to figure out why the intensity of my loss lasted so long. I had lost my 'boosters', my cheer team. The only people who ever really cared for me.
Now that I am a senior, my pain has receded somewhat. I think it's because, I'm closer to them spacially.