Father's Day Memories

My Dad suffers with dementia. He isn't with us in the way he used to be, but his love is strong, and his will to live even stronger. For that I admire and thank him.

My memories of my father and his influence on my life are both intensely positive and surprisingly negative.  

The positive memories include long days in the sun, on the 14 ft boat, soaking up the sunshine and fishing for Whiting, Bream and Flathead. And the excitement of cooking and eating all the fresh fish on the fire at night, then playing 500 late at night in our converted bus camper on Macleay Island in Moreton Bay, Brisbane. The island was like another world, of adventure and fun and as I take my children to regular holiday spots now, I see them gain a little glimpse of my island holiday life and I understand their excitement and wonder. 

I remember long hours driving in the car with Dad, talking. My Dad didn't talk about politics or world events, but he would talk for hours about nature, especially birds and rocks, and about social histories.  He'd also get me doing maths on our long trips, reading the map for how many kilometers to the nearest town, then to the nearest big town, then to the day's final destination! Then as I grew older, the maths became more complicated as I calculated petrol, either how far we'd make it till the petrol station, or how much mileage we got from filling the tank. I learnt to choose accommodation by price and amenities this same way, on our long trips.

The not-so-great memories include many times on summer holidays asking for Dad to show me how to do basic mechanics on my car. Dad was an auto-electrician, so he knew these things. Eventually friends of mine at university showed me how to change the oil in my car. Obviously they were just that little bit less sexist than my Dad who was born between the two world wars and believed that a man's job was to look after a woman and make sure she wanted for nothing. It is possible that his need for this to be true stemmed from his own parents, as his Dad suffered PTSD from World War I and from all accounts his mother perhaps did quite a bit of complaining at having to take over significant amounts of work.  I don't remember her well, but Dad's childhood friends are fond of telling me that she was not particularly generous of spirit!

So this father's day I'm reflecting on how my Dad's parenting reflects on my parenting style....and in order to not make another of Dad's mistakes (at least not right at this instant) I'm off to watch my children wake up their father with toast and coffee they prepared themselves!

Happy Fathers Day to all the Dads out there!