“When a father, absent by day, returns home at six, his children only receive his temperament, not his teaching”…Robert Bly
My father is 83 years old this October. He is about to move from the house he’s lived in the past twelve years.
His mind is leaving him but his body is strong.
I wanted to write something in praise of him, but realized that I really don’t know what to say.
He wasn’t available to me. He still calls me Billy (I’m almost fifty). We see the world very differently.
I will forever be his son. Not his equal. Not a man.
I’ve come to understand that I don’t, and probably never will, really know him.
It’s not for lack of effort. It just wasn’t meant to be in this life time.
But this I know.
He’s going to be 83 in a month.
A man who lives this long deserves some words of kindness.