I come from a southern family: 5 generations of my mother’s side were born and raised in Atlanta. Can you say “Daaawlin?” My poor dad didn’t stand a change living anywhere else. According to my maternal grandmother, his loyalties were already in question -having been born in the state of Virginia.
My father’s sale’ job was in New York and my mom was not going to raise her 4 girls above the Mason Dixon Line… so he commuted. Flying out every Monday morning, he worked all week up north and flew back on Friday. A mechanical-engineering, car-fanatic, he became more and more lost in our female-only, estrogen-dominated household. Once home, we usually saw his feet sticking out from beneath one of his many cars!
He was an excellent provider, however sharing feelings was never a strong point. I remember him occasionally taking me on dates and trying hard to relate. We all knew he loved us, because mom told us repeatedly… and he wrote it on cards. But every child longs to hear 1st hand.
At 81 my father’s dementia causes him to brake social and verbal reserves. He repeats phrases like, “Thank you for helping me,” and “I appreciate you coming,” and “I’m so glad you’re here” and “I love you.” He says them over and over and I never tire of hearing.
I wonder if he always thought these, but just didn’t say them. They are a gift in the midst of this decline. God knew I needed to hear these specific words of blessing and have them repeated over and over 🙂 Thankful