re: How often do you talk with your dad?

I call him once a week on Friday or Saturday.

I took a swing at my old man one Christmas, didn’t dream that it would be his last.

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Mental illness is a bitch.

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That it is. Sorry, Easter Bunny.

My dad has passed away, but we didn't talk alot when he was alive.
He was introverted and my mother always did all the talking.
We did however, talk a little bit more as I got older, and before his Alzheimer's overtook him.
So, I'm thankful for at least a few years of being able to talk with him as adults.

I wouldn’t dream of taking a swing at my daddy even though I have three inches on him. He brought me into this world and I inherited all of his faults it seems including the ability to show compassion.

Side Note: called my brother today to wish him a happy birthday and he was more elated about that than I thought he would be.

Probably once every few weeks, and then then it's usually short and about something specific. I'm horrible at keeping up with anyone at all and don't really enjoy idle chit chat.

None. My father left befor I was born — arse. Now that he lives near me he wants to develop a relationship. He always paid child support and I’d see him maybe twice a year.

Dude. I’m 51. You had time. No thanks. I don’t care how close you live.

You didn’t fail anyone — and he could call and check in with you — why does it have to be you to check in with him?

(How Old are you?)

I probably had the first real-real conversation I’ve had with my dad about a month ago.

Like we talked about issues and world stuff, like I was talking to another adult, instead of him berating me or cutting me down. It was weird. Not planned.

And the crazy thing is I’m beginning to understand the old man. The frustrations of fatherhood. The burdens we bear. Why we do the things we do. How working your arse off is preferable to hearing the nagging over what amounts to petty BS.

The unseen sacrifices we make, the hard decisions.

The question was asked to me, “don’t you wish your dad would have come to more games instead of working all the time?”

And I really thought about it, and said “no.” Because now I understand why he made the sacrifices. Yeah, I missed him being there for things because he was working, but him working allowed us to be able to take trips across country. To see the mountains. The oceans. To have these beautiful experiences that i treasure and remember.

I don’t remember much of anything about the sports I played in.

But I remember skiing in Colorado. I remember taking a trip to Disneyworld. To universal studios.
To key west. The trip to Yellowstone where i caught my first rainbow trout, and we ended up spending a night in Canada, and when we drove back down we decided “hell, we’re in El Paso, why not drive into Mexico.” We stayed all of 20 minutes in Juarez, but we did it.

And that’s what I remember. A man trades away his life, his time, and in exchange gets to make memories.

It’s a hard concept for many to understand in the moment, but looking back, I’m glad.

He was hard on me because the world will always be harder. And it helped me to be tough. And I’m still standing, through all the fires and tumults I’ve endured.

So thanks, Dad.

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I wouldn’t dream of taking a swing at my daddy even though I have three inches on him. He brought me into this world and I inherited all of his faults it seems including the ability to show compassion

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Me and my dad got into a physical altercation once. I was an absolute turd as a teenager and I don't blame him. I think I was 16 at the time.

He grabbed me and I grabbed him around the throat. We wrestled to the ground. He told me that I surprised him how strong I was.

He was stronger than me but I managed to get on top of him, I pulled my fist back to hit him and couldn't do it. I started crying like a little girl, got off of him and ran out of the house.