Who Was Dad, Anyway?

I have a number of good friends who have lost their fathers. Their relationships with their fathers have varied: one was the apple of his eye, one was alienated almost completely, one had very mixed emotions. But, none of them had a split between how they experienced their fathers and how the world saw their fathers as individuals.

My Dad, however, was different. He was barely 21 when I was born, still in college, still almost a teenager. Obviously, I wasn't planned and neither was my parents' marriage (although it lasted 21 years, which is pretty long for marrying so young and under duress). Because of both the age difference and, probably, because of the way Dad was wired, he seemed more like a terrifying big brother than a father figure. His rough housing was indeed rough, his game playing was competitive and took no prisoners. He worked non stop throughout my childhood, again partially because he was young and needed to build a career, and partially because that was how his personality worked. He wasn't particularly warm and cuddly when I was a child, although he did seem to enjoy having more adult children and gave good advice and support, when asked.

Compare my experience to the overwhelmingly rapturous praise bestowed upon him by his co-workers and casual acquaintances. He worked at a large law firm and had a party many summers for the firm's summer associates. Young attorneys would approach me, the oldest daughter, to wax poetic about what an amazing mentor and wonderful guy Dad was. "It must be so awesome, to have such a cool dad," one female associate gushed at me. I wasn't sure what to say back, so I anemically agreed. It seemed easier than to try to inappropriately explain that I wasn't sure who the hell she was talking about. And this scene played itself out repeatedly over the years.

Now, after his death, it almost seems like there's a public relations machine at work, one which has no room for subtlety or nuance. To his partners and underlings, he's a hero, a team player, the most beloved person at the firm, the peacemaker, the confidante, the appropriate ladies' charmer. There's no room to perhaps explain that he gave those patient, compassionate, good instincts and efforts to his career, but gave his child (I won't speak for my sister or stepsister here) a considerably different experience. He was often cold, distracted, and emotionally unavailable. He had trouble communicating unconditional love, although I'm sure he did feel it. He was often witheringly dismissive. While he was always financially supportive, he wasn't the emotional booster for his children that he was for his associates at work. That's just the truth.

He was also funny and often outrageous. Although he was known as a true diplomat at work, he was the provocateur at home. His cursing was legion. He had a whimsical side and a penchant for making up hilarious songs. He teased mercilessly, which was only funny if you weren't on the wrong end of the teasing. In fact, his behavior at home was almost the complete opposite of his behavior at work.

So was was Dad, anyway? It's hard to decipher because he seems so split. On the one hand, perhaps he felt comfortable enough at home to make the rest of us feel uncomfortable, something he couldn't afford to do at work. Sort of along the lines of: you're stuck with me, so I can be as badly behaved as I wanna be. But I think that it was also more important to him, as well as easier, to be loved at work by people who had less complex relationships with him. He was, ultimately, the man who spent more time at work, and probably didn't regret it.

Dad's memorial service hasn't happened yet. Although I'm hoping to feel a sense of closure from it, I don't have high hopes. Listening to a bunch of people sing his praises for hours is just a repeat of every encounter I've ever had with his co workers and acquaintances. And I don't think I'm going to speak, because I don't think anyone wants to hear my ultimately loving, but decidedly different view of Dad.