How Does that Work?
I don’t know what got him to be the way he was
That stubborn, detached person distant from most emotions.
Perhaps, a World War, a Russian Revolution, a Global Depression,
Unemployment, loneliness and death all take their toll.
The vessel we were left with, as father, was often empty,
Puzzling and distant.
Then he would surprise and build me something
from his wood shop, followed by a lack of interest.
After he retired from the factory where he was anti-union
Yet highly skilled, he would disappear from home for months.
One morning slurping coffee form his over-sized coffee hound
Mug, slip from harbour, take the only car and wander the continent.
Until one morning it was a chipper
“Good Morning”
Like he had never left,
Save for the few random post cards from San Diego
and Miami.
Frugal, cheap, controlling,
My mother had no say in groceries, decor, trips, or cars.
A male domain of the old school, I thought normal
Until I knew better and saw the world.
Something more secular, as religion or males were suffocating
Influences.
Prayer for liberation was a token given to women a myth created by
Men, as the rich give it to the poor.
Finally, my mother vacationed South,
My dad on a jealous whim followed
No trust
No love
Did I have the mark of the beast?
I saw him cry once when he lost his job and we had to move the family.
He provided as men did.
After graduation he followed me where I went.
I think he could love in he own way, in his own time
It was a slow painful process.
My resolute indelible image:
early morning slurping his strong coffee from and over-flowing
Mug into a large saucer just returned from somewhere.
I did love him too
How does that work?
