I sat down with my dad today to eat supper. Just me and him. It was before my mom had come home and he had cooked fish, French fries, and hushpuppies. Even though I didn’t like the fish he cooked, bream, and had already eaten, I decided I would at least eat a few fries and a hushpuppy or two.
The normal silence ensued.
It didn’t last too long though. It never does, but it’s always there at first. It’s like we both have to think hard to come up with something to talk to each other about. That’s how it’s always been.
The typical icebreaker concerning my car came from him. He talked about me trading my car in for a different one. I decided to shock him a little and change the subject since I’m honestly sick of hearing about a new car (even though I want one). I told him I wanted to go to my grandparent’s camp near a lake not too far from where we live. He said he’s been wanting to go for a while now and that my grandparents have been wanting us to go with them some weekend too. The conversation slowly died off as we talked about all the lakes in the area that the state is draining to get rid of some type of water plant (even though it doesn’t help any). I eventually got up and left him still eating.
My dad and I have never had the best relationship. We never had much in common, besides the fact that I looked and acted just like him, until my late teen years. I used to be afraid of him when I was young and we used to always argue over everything. I never could carry on a normal conversation with him. He also never had anything nice to say to me or about me. He was never the person I went to if I needed encouragement.
Now as we’ve both grown older, the arguments are very few and far between (they’re more debates now) and we’ve gained some common ground. I used to not even want to be around him, but I now I find myself enjoying just sitting out on the porch with him in the evening even if there’s little conversing. He’s still not a source of encouragement, but he has taught me many things, both directly and indirectly, that no one else could.
I know some gay guys blame their dad for their homosexuality. Even though our relationship wasn’t all that great for most of my life, I don’t blame him. I don’t blame anyone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I don't "blame" anyone for my homosexuaity. I'm damned happy about it, to be quite honest with you...
Sly-D, I am glad to see that there is some kind of common ground between you and your dad. I'm guessing that the movement comes from both directions: he is beginning to recognize (and respect) you as your own person, as an adult, and as a man. That is hard for a father to admit - ;) - because now his role changes. I am guessing that you too are recognizing that your dad was not the total hair-brained idiot that most teenage sons thing their fathers are. I don't think that the major factor is the gay thing at all. I think you are just being father and son.
As for blame, there is not one to blame. It is just the way you are, wonderfully and wondrously made.
Thanks for the comments guys! As for the blaming deal, this post is from September of 06, back when I was still figuring everything out (I'm telling you I've come a VERY long way in the last few months!). I had just edited this post for some bad spelling mistakes that were bugging me and I didn't realize that it was going to be sent out over feeds. I don't blame anyone at all now (or then). In fact, that doesn't even cross my mind anymore. I'm very happy with who I am.
Post a Comment