Today is Father's Day here in the US. (and the first day of summer but we won't talk about that since it's raining and the temp is about 10 degrees below what it should be). I haven't seen my Dad for a number of years. We've had a strange relationship since he married my mother when I was 7.

My mom was a single mother for a number of years when she met my dad. When they married, my sister was 5 and I was 7. She was still young enough to be a "daddy's girl" but I was not. Or maybe I was just not inclined to be one, I don't know. It was strange having this person come into our lives. A person with rules and thoughts about how things should be done. My mother let him take over in a lot of ways and our lives changed, mostly for the better.

When I was 10, my brother was born. To give my dad credit, he never made a distinction between my brother who was his biological child and my sister and I. In 1972, he adopted us legally. I always thought we had a good family.(until I made a good family of my own and could see the difference) My childhood memories are not bad ones. As long as we followed the rules and did what we were told, things were good. My dad was not one to cross. He had a wicked temper and tended to yell first and listen later. I made a decision that I would not speak in anger to my children based on growing up with my dad.

When Pk and I started dating while in high school, my dad made it clear he was not happy. He made it difficult for us to have a relationship. When Pk went to talk to him one day, to request that if he had problems he talk directly to him and not put me in the middle, my dad blew his top. And that's the stated reason why he didn't come to our wedding.

Our early married years were tough as I tried to balance learning to be married to a man I loved and keep a relationship with my parents. When the girls came along, it became tougher. My father saw my children a handful of times. He said he was afraid he would become close to them and then Pk wouldn't let him see them. As if I would stand for something like that.

Eventually, after a trip down to see them (they live about an hour away) and my dad left to walk the dogs and reminded me that my mother wasn't strong and we shouldn't stay long, the girls and I decided we felt unwanted and that was the last visit.

I keep up with them through my brother (who has his own tumultuous relationship with them). I know my sister sees them often. They welcome her into their lives. I've often thought it was because she NEEDS them and I just loved them.

Very often when people hear bits of this, they say in semi-accusing tones "but they're your parents!". To which I reply, "but I'm their daughter!". When you hit your head against a brick wall over and over, eventually you end up with a headache and a bloody wall. When the headache got bad enough, I decided to stop. And my life was calmer and more peaceful.

I'm not sure where this came from today. Maybe because I was mentally comparing Pk's relationship with our children and mine with my own father. We were determined to have a happy family and let our children grow into people with their own thoughts and ideas (Boy, did they ever!). I think we've succeeded. My children have a good relationship with their father and know he's there for them unconditonally. I didn't say they don't have their share of fights, what kind of family has no fights? But there is mostly love and respect and caring. And humor. Lots of humor.

I've been blessed to be married to a man I call my best friend. He's the person I think of first when I hear something interesting or have some bit of news. He's the shoulder I lean on and the person I reach out to when I have a nightmare. He gets my jokes and obscure references and for 28 + years, he's been the love of my life. My girls are lucky to have a father who would step in front of a train for them.

So, Happy Father's Day, my love. You're the best.