I suppose my childhood was not the TV version of the best, but it wasn't the worse either. We did not have a lot of money, or live in a house, mostly small unattractive apartments in some questionable neighborhoods but I did not care. I was with my loving parents. At least one was, my mother. My father had just gotten discharged from the Navy after WWll and was still young and wild, like most were then. He came to Cincinnati to stay with his older brother and look for a job. My mother was born in Alabama and moved to Cincinnati for work in a factory during the war. After they met, I was born the following year in 1946. I never asked them how they met, and when I was old enough to think about that, they were gone. They both came from the 'Great Generation' who never really discussed things like that.
At age 7, I was shipped off to my mother's parents farm in Alabama. For the next year I lived in an old farm house with no electric or indoor plumbing. I went to school there, and actually got the best grades ever, and I worked in the fields along side of my two uncles (mom's younger brothers) and grandparents. I picked cotton by hand, carried iced water to my grandfather as he plowed the fields behind a horse, took baths in a big wash tub, and fought with my uncles throwing mud hardened corn cobs at each other. Boy did they hurt. When they finally got electricity and water in doors, along with a telephone, I'd talk to my mother back in Cincinnati. My dad never called, or at least I don't remember him calling. He did came by and picked me up to go stay in a moldy old cabin next to a big dam. It was the worse time for a week. I got a bad sunburn cause he said I was too pale and needed to get a tan. No 'Coppertone' tan lotion back then.
When my mom finally came and got me, we lived in these small apartments for years. As a 5th grader, we moved 5 times and I was in 5 different schools in some rough neighborhoods where I learned to street fight to save my pale body and chubby appearance. My mother worked in a department store running elevators, eventually becoming the elevator girl for the owner of the store. She always worked and always was loving and we always had what we needed to survive, food, presentable clothing and a roof over our heads. But she needed a loving partner. To me, it seemed like she could not find the right guy. It wasn't until I was 12 years old she found a guy she would marry. Carl was his name and he become my step-father until he died. My father and I did finally reunited years later but it was a stand-offish manner. He never was the lovey-dovey type. I wanted that relationship, but he just accepted it and went along.
Fast forward to many years later, my dad got skin cancer which was the cause of his death. We did talk in his last days and he told me he was sorry and loved me. First I remember him saying that. My mother passed in the same hospital building we both were born in. Her in 1924 and me in 1946. But I did not mean to bore you with my life story.
To my title point, when my dad passed, I was not at lose as I was when my mother died. Maybe because I felt my dad did not love me like my mother had. When I asked my dad to help with anything, it was with a long deep exhale and an reluctant "OK". My mother was always happy to help me. But she was never ready wanted to discuss my thoughts and dreams for my future. Maybe that was the way of that generation. Never really discuss or talk about personal thoughts and feelings with your kids. I missed not talking to them about my feelings on life in general. But now they are gone. I have changed that in our family. We talk about ANYTHING the grand kids want to talk about. And we clear our schedule anytime they want help.
It is hard to lose your parents because sometimes you feel like an orphan, but you're not. Your parents can not be replaced and part of them lives in you, like old photos, memories they cause you to remember, some things you do emulate them. But this is not just about parents, but anyone that means a lot to you. Siblings, friends, aunts and uncles, co-workers, anyone you cared for. You can never fill that void or their shoes. You have to remember the good times and times you spent with them. Cherish friends and relatives NOW before it is too late, even if you don't see eye-to-eye. And if you are lucky enough to still have your parents, ask them those hard questions now before...
Today is Father's Day and I miss both of my parents. They may not have been perfect parents but I am sure somewhere deep down they loved you as much as they could, and in their own way. Respect that and take comfort as you look through those old family photos and films.
Take care and stay safe.
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