Never too late to grow

Through one bold request, I got the gift of my father.

When I became a social worker in Child Protective Services, my first case was an eye opener. It stirred up memories and emotions that I thought were buried too deep to surface. So, I went to my parents and said this is what I remember. My mom said she confronted my dad after I left and they hashed some stuff out in an emotional evenings worth of conversations. I told them I was going to go to counseling to work through some issues and my counselor suggested I bring my dad along. To my surprise, he agreed to go.

Dad acknowledged his parenting was abuse, not discipline. He wept. He apologized and he told me he loved me. Very hard things for him to do. And he wasn’t making excuses when he said his co-workers supported his “parenting”, he was just stating facts. One thing he said has stayed with me all these years. “I never treated you as bad as my dad treated me.”

Then something wonderful happened you guys – my dad changed. He became softer, we discussed more topics. He said he was proud of me. He became a better Grampa, and a better man. He still needed to counseling for his own bad memories from childhood, but that’s probably going to be better received by the next generation.

He was in the nursing home with Stage 4 Alzhiemers when he asked me if he was a good father. The question threw me and it took a minute to answer: “ Dad, you loved me with all your heart. You did the best you could with the foundation you were given. So yes dad, you were a good father. Yes you were.”

And now I’m crying. I miss him.

By: Cindy Gransden