My dad

Not the best shot ever but this is the view from mum and dad’s deck.

I should be getting ready for Snack Shack duty at the school but I just had a phone conversation with my dad, which prompted this blog post. That happens you know. You have no thoughts, nothing to give and then one small conversation changes that.

My dad loves my blog. I didn’t even know he read it. He says it’s insightful and it tells him stuff about me. I told him that it’s nothing I wouldn’t tell him over a cuppa but I spose you don’t have those conversations with your dad.

Dad has always been, to me, the lightness of the family. I’m sure that makes no sense, but it does to me. He wasn’t around all that much when we were kids. He was a truck driver who worked long hours but the thing I remember about him the most was his sense of humour. I say was, but he’s still as healthy as ever and working four days a week even though he’s hit the big Seven Oh. And he still has that sense of humour. I think I inherited that from him (as well as the dry skin and asthma), though sometimes my sense of humour disappears for days…but it’s there; it never disappears for good.

I also remember the occasional treats he would bring home – like a Cherry Ripe. I bloody loved those treats because they weren’t every day, so they were real treats. These days the kids get a treat every bloody day.

So he was the fun parent against mum having to be the not so fun parent – the one who endured the every day tedium of raising two girls who weren’t the best of friends.

We all have our history and stories of our family of origin. My work with PANDA has given me an insight about how powerful your family of origin can be for your own adulthood and raising your own children – this cannot be underestimated. I’d love to tell you about my mum and her history because the little I know is fascinating but while dad and I are open books, mum isn’t. Even dad’s story is pretty amazing and the things he went through as a child – the same age as my oldest one now – is just unfathomable. But they were different times. Dad has given me permission to sit down with him and record his story. I can’t wait. xx

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4 Responses to My dad

  1. Wow that is so beautiful. My Dad who is 83 wrote his biography a few years ago from my prompting. We weren’t a great family of communicators so it was such an eye opening experience. Dad has lived such a full and amazing life. This will such a lovely thing for you do to with your Dad. x

  2. Susan Brasch says:

    I think it’s a wonderful Idea Lisa. When my Dad’s best friend died about 5 years ago I said to Dad afterward I don’t want to wait to hear your Eulogy to find out about all the wonderful things you have experienced before I was born. Although I am not a scribe, we have created lots of times to talk about when he was a boy.

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