Our dads.

[VictorXX]

Great

[MaybeMaybeNot]

I had a difficult relationship with my dad, and for many years, I thought that it made me gay. My father was severely depressed, lazy, and, to be honest, not too bright. The result was, I grew up thinking he hated me. After he got on anti-depressants (when I was 21), our relationship improved, though it fell apart again after my parents divorce (partially because of how my mom handled the divorce and partially because my dad used me to get money to buy things for his trashy new girlfriend . . . at a time in my life when I was very bad off financially). Our relationship never fully recovered after that.

 

After his trashy girlfriend used him for everything she could get, my dad came back into the picture. It took me a while before I would see him, and our relationship was never the same.

 

My dad was homophobic and would talk about "fags" and didn't believe in gay rights (marriage, military), but when my sister was convinced that I would come out, she prepped him for it, and he actually had the conversation with me in my thirties that it would be okay if I was gay. Soon after that, he'd make homophobic comments, but I always knew that he would support me being gay. I knew he would would have a hard time with it, but ultimately, he would say he just wanted me to be happy

 

My dad would always puff himself up because he was proud of his kids, and I knew it was partly because it made him look good. The day we learned my dad was going on hospice, I sat in the hospital talking to him. For the first time, he acknowledged in strong language that he was a bad father. I couldn't bring myself to contradict him, just to say, "Well, we all turned out okay." But through his admission, I was able to get over some of the pain of the past. Although I had forgiven him, I hadn't allowed myself to get close to him because I didn't want to be close and because I didn't want to get hurt again. He would later explain that he didn't spend as much time with me as he did my siblings only because he had more in common with them. That never bothered me, to be honest, because I spent so much of my life not wanting to spend too much time with him.

 

When he was on hospice, I made some huge sacrifices for him. When we ultimately had to move him into a nursing home, I was the one visiting him 4-6 times a week and grieving that I couldn't have him at home with me (he couldn't be left alone). For much of that time, my siblings, who were much closer to him, were pretty much MIA. I came to love my dad, not how I would have wanted to love my dad, but with compassion and genuine love and concern for him. I'm not totally sure why.

 

I didn't come out to myself until years after both my parents (and one of my siblings) passed. I loved my dad, but it's my mom for whom I still grieve daily.

[Merboy]

I had a difficult relationship with my dad, and for many years, I thought that it made me gay. My father was severely depressed, lazy, and, to be honest, not too bright. The result was, I grew up thinking he hated me. After he got on anti-depressants (when I was 21), our relationship improved, though it fell apart again after my parents divorce (partially because of how my mom handled the divorce and partially because my dad used me to get money to buy things for his trashy new girlfriend . . . at a time in my life when I was very bad off financially). Our relationship never fully recovered after that.

 

After his trashy girlfriend used him for everything she could get, my dad came back into the picture. It took me a while before I would see him, and our relationship was never the same.

 

My dad was homophobic and would talk about "fags" and didn't believe in gay rights (marriage, military), but when my sister was convinced that I would come out, she prepped him for it, and he actually had the conversation with me in my thirties that it would be okay if I was gay. Soon after that, he'd make homophobic comments, but I always knew that he would support me being gay. I knew he would would have a hard time with it, but ultimately, he would say he just wanted me to be happy

 

My dad would always puff himself up because he was proud of his kids, and I knew it was partly because it made him look good. The day we learned my dad was going on hospice, I sat in the hospital talking to him. For the first time, he acknowledged in strong language that he was a bad father. I couldn't bring myself to contradict him, just to say, "Well, we all turned out okay." But through his admission, I was able to get over some of the pain of the past. Although I had forgiven him, I hadn't allowed myself to get close to him because I didn't want to be close and because I didn't want to get hurt again. He would later explain that he didn't spend as much time with me as he did my siblings only because he had more in common with them. That never bothered me, to be honest, because I spent so much of my life not wanting to spend too much time with him.

 

When he was on hospice, I made some huge sacrifices for him. When we ultimately had to move him into a nursing home, I was the one visiting him 4-6 times a week and grieving that I couldn't have him at home with me (he couldn't be left alone). For much of that time, my siblings, who were much closer to him, were pretty much MIA. I came to love my dad, not how I would have wanted to love my dad, but with compassion and genuine love and concern for him. I'm not totally sure why.

 

I didn't come out to myself until years after both my parents (and one of my siblings) passed. I loved my dad, but it's my mom for whom I still grieve daily.

Thank you so much for sharing that.