I watched the white-haired man walk slowly into the bank. He used a cane to steady himself. He moved slowly. He looked very frail.
I knew the face, but I didn’t really know that face anymore. I had known this man when he was young and strong and vibrant, not when he seemed more like the men from my grandparents’ generation.
But though I hadn’t seen him for years — and though he had changed a lot — this man was still my father.
Until today, I hadn’t seen anyone in my family for roughly eight years. Although I never would have called us this when I was a child, the truth is that we were a seriously dysfunctional family. We didn’t know that phrase then — and even if we had known it, we would have been in denial.
A month after my father’s death, it doesn’t feel real that he’s gone
How terrified would your child self have been of your current adult life?
Is it abuse to force atypical kids to conform to norms of society?
When times turn too dark in my life, I’m grateful for furry antidepressant
Unless you oppose all coercion, ‘resistance’ claim rings hollow
Politicians have no right dictating the menu of your kid’s Happy Meal
Confessing my ego’s old desires reveals hidden fears of my past
Rights or choices? It might be time to re-frame the debate
Arrogance and stupidity go hand in hand for the coercive state