My father was a good and decent man. He just wasn’t a very good dad. Workaholic journalist and politician (yes a decent politician actually). Worked too hard, smoked and drank too much which combined ruined his health. Kept me awake as a kid till after midnight banging away on his typewriter in his study which was next to my room. If my mother disallowed something I’d ask my dad after and he most of the time he’d say OK. Let me find my own way in life. Let me make my own choices. Didn’t validate me.
I tried to emulate him way too long, and at the same time tried to be not like him for too long too. After working in journalism and politics myself and hating it I broke free by becoming a bicycle messenger. Found my own way since.
The one thing we really shared was our love for football. Dad took me to Ajax almost every home game for years and years. Highlight of my youth. I still go with his youngest brother occasionally.
He died five years ago. Not sure I miss him. When he was around I was proud of his achievements in his career. Proud to call him my father. And I still feel that pride. But he never was a proper dad to me. I missed that all my life and that hasn’t changed since he died.
my father was an amazing man. he died dec 29 2006 of a heart attack. just stood up out of bed one night and dropped dead. what is comforting is that his death was quick - no drawn out chemo treatments or stroke. his death changed my life forever.
before he passed, my father struggled with alcoholism. he was a successful business man so i saw him sober before 5pm everyday, but every night the beer drinking started. i’m glad he was never violent, abusive or aggressive with his drinking. even through his alcoholism, he was the patriarch of my family. always taking in whatever family member found themselves in a hard spot, hosting all the parties, taking us on vacations, loaning money and being the first call. he loved to give money to wildlife charities, always supported his community and was a cherished member of a boat club down the street. he is terribly missed. i never want to marry an alcoholic but i do hope to marry someone as compassionate as he was. mornings watching the news, him making me breakfast, are some of my favorite moments.
gosh, i love talking about him! RIP papa 
Haven’t seen my dad since more then 10 years.
He was a great dad, but after my mom passed away from cancer he was anxious to stay alone. He soon found a new younger partner and sort of cut away his “old” life. He stopped seeing everyone of his old life. I tried to talk to him but it didn’t work out. Last thing I heard from him in personal was a email in wich he says I’m not allowed to contact him anymore and I’m not allowed at his funeral. I found out he sold his house and lives somewere else now. I do not know where. It’s funny how a person can change.
I’ve had a good childhood with nice memories about both of my parents. I hope he has a good life despite all. He turns 80 in january.
Wow this is a great post. My dad is my hero .he’s been married to my mum for 50 years I have never heard him shout or be angry at anyone in my like . My dad is retired but when he was at work all his spare time wa0s with us a0sp a family. My dad is the best dad and grandpa in the world he has seen me in addiction and never turned his back in më. He’s so happy I found recovery and if anyone said a bad word about me he would always stick up 4 me … just thinking about my dad melts my heart . I’m totally blessed to have him in my life x
My dad did did his best,he went out to work and put food on the table for me and my brother,he was and still is a alcoholic,I believe it’s called functiong alcoholic ,he had a rough childhood himself so I never ever hold it against him for drinking he lost 4 brothers 3 in car crashes and one got hit by a car in a period of 4 years they were all 21 or under ,I can’t imagine burying 4 of your brothers in the space of a year apart …so so sad for him,he never showed us kids emotions he’d only tell us how he felt when he was drunk.i live my dad dearly but when I do see him I can see the saddness in his eyes the pain he’s been running from all these years it’s so sad .
@RBG
Here ya go!
So, I grew up without my biological dad. My mom and him were never married. I was always told he had a drug and alcohol problem, he moved to Texas for rehab, ended up in a good spot down there, and just never came back. Growing up, I was never to ask about him, per my stepdad. Years go by, and I think nothing of it. Never speak of him, never hear about him, etc.
So, fast forward a billion years to the summer of 2003. I get a phone call from a buddy. Conversation goes as such:
-Mike: “Hey man, you sitting down?”
-Me: “Yeah, what’s up?” Instantly thinking the worst…
-Mike: “I think we found your dad!”
-Me: “Uh, what???”
-Mike: "Yeah man, Jeremy works with this dude Brad, who plays in some bands. They got to talking music, Jeremy gave him the demo you guys made in '99/00. He came in the following day and said “Tell me about you guitar player, TJ…is his mom’s name Cindy by chance?”…Jeremy confirms all questions, and your dad said “Damn, I think that’s my son.”
-Me: “What in the actual fuck???”
Conversation goes on for a bit, and ends with Mike passing on my dad’s phone number to me, with the message “Tell TJ to call me as soon as he can, or whenever he’s comfortable with it.” So, I called him that night. Hahaha.
So, my grandma answers, who to my knowledge, I’ve never talked to, conversation went:
-TJ “Hi, is Brad available?”
-Grandma Elliot: “He is, he’s unpacking some gear, may I ask who’s calling?”
-Me: “Uhm, this is TJ…”
-Grandma E: “Oh my goodness, how are you? Brad is going to be so excited!” covers phone and yells for my dad.
-Dad: “Heyyyyyyyyyy man! What’s up?”
-Me: “Not much, uh, you? You’re unloading gear?”
-Dad: “Yeah, my band just got back from a gig in New York.”
-Me: “Damn, that is awesome. What’s your band called?”
-Dad: “The Gates of Slumber.”
-Me: “Shut the fuck up. Seriously?”
-Dad: hesitates a bit “Uh, yeah, why?”
-Me: “Dude, you’re playing with Angelville next Friday at Festivilla. That’s my band!!!”
So, at this point, I’ve not met my dad. He’s set to play a show WITH ME, withouth even knowing it. What???
Well, we met two days later at a Guitar Center. We hugged, jammed a bit, and then went to Steak N’ Shake for dinner. Then, back to his parent’s house, because that’s where he was living, as he had just moved back from Texas, and I met my grandparents on his side. It was a wild night. We never did play that show together, he quit the band the next night. I was bummed, but we ended up jamming a few years later when his band did a benefit for mine, after we had our van flip over on tour, and they wanted to help out with medical costs that got racked up.
I asked him if the drug and alcohol thing was legit, and he said no. His side of the story was he was trying to be in my life as best as he could, and my stepdad pulled a gun on him one time and told him to never come around, or else he’ll put him six feet under. Based on the abuse I dealt with from my stepdad, the verbal abuse my mom got, and the fact I saw him shoot my mom point blank in the leg with a blank round (those still leave marks and hurt like hell), I’m inclined to believe my dad. He told me that since he couldn’t be in my life, and my older half brother (same dad, different mom) had a similar situation, he decided to pack it up. He got a gig in Texas working with the guitarist from Dangerous Toys at a guitar company.
As long and drawn out as that is, that’s the short version. There’s so much more in the years growing up…if you guys made it this far, right on.
Here’s the band he was in when we met, and one of the songs from the album he played bass on. They actually went on to be a huge deal in the doom metal scene.
Awesome story!
that’s wild!! such a cool story!!
Rumour has it my father slept with my mother.
That is a really cool story. Thanks for sharing!
I created this thread partially to allow myself to vent, but after reading everything shared so far, I feel differently. I don’t know why. Maybe because there are so many positive feelings expressed here about fathers. Anyway, reading your stories has changed mine.
In most respects, my father is a good man. He is respected and loved by many. He has been loyal to my mother. He is reliable, trustworthy, compassionate, generous, humble, intelligent, educated, and more. He has always been a devout Christian and church-goer. Anyone who hasn’t lived with him would like him.
He was educated in a private college prep school and subsequently on a prestigious university, where he studied Latin. He passed on the opportunity to continue there as a professor and instead chose to sacrifice himself (and his family) to the lowest paying teaching positions he could find. He did this out of personal conviction. Consequently I was raised in what would be officially considered well below poverty.
Before you start to muster up some pity, be assured that I never went hungry, and I never really felt deprived of necessities. He was quite good with money and was often paid in other than cash. In fact the only thing I ever felt deprived of was a father.
My father was the first of eight. His parents were uneducated. His father was an alcoholic veteran. (I assume he got help for this, because I never saw him drink.) His mother was overbearing and possibly somewhat abusive. He says that she beat him at times. I think it was done out of frustration at the overwhelming nature of her circumstances. She had to raise eight on her own. That’s with two sets of twins!
My father apparently never had any addictions. (He had a thing for licorice though.) However, he certainly had some inner turmoil.
I don’t know what he would have been diagnosed with. He was occasionally suicidal. This seemed to be triggered by events that he couldn’t handle. And it seemed that he couldn’t handle a whole lot.
He tended to only discipline when he was angry. And if he felt that discipline was needed, he would generally get angry. He believed in corporal punishment, and most of that went to my brother. My brother was definitely abused by my father, and he suffers from it to this day. That’s a different story so I won’t dwell on it. But I can say that I also was abused a handful of times. As in the case of my grandmother, I think it was for the same reason. Since I was a more docile child, I was mostly spared. But the abuse which I witnessed still impacted me and shaped my perspective of my father.
He craved validation and acceptance. Whenever he felt deprived of those, he broke down. His ego has never been strong. I have seen him in tears over being honored at work. It means everything to him.
As I matured and began to see his flaws, my respect for him waned. Around the age of puberty, I began to hate him and wish him dead. He was a man living in my house that only paid attention to me when I did something wrong.
I have learned a lot from my father, but he taught me nothing. I can sit here and try to think of something useful that he has taught me, and I always fail. He never mentored me, never listened to me, and never inspired me. He never threw ball with me. He never talked about sex with me. He left that to my mother. This is the truth. She started on that one night with me out of the blue. I didn’t want to hear it. Imagine how awkward that would be. I had no father. He was the only person that could deprive me of that, and he had no right. But that’s what he did.
I can only try to imagine how different my life would have been and how different I would be if I had a real father. My life is a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing, and I will never find it.
My father is 72 now and in decent health. I’d say he has a handful of quality years left. He would have more, if he took care of himself. Instead he leaves that mostly up to the doctors. I rarely see him even though he lives close with my mother. He still doesn’t try to connect with me. He might sit for 5 minutes and talk. Then he’ll wander off. So I just don’t go anymore. Last Father’s day I took him and my mother out for dinner. He left his hearing aids at home. I treat him respectfully, but I don’t respect him.
I will never understand how a man can bring a child into the world and go through all the trouble of providing for that child but never even try to develop a relationship with him. It’s the hardest thing for me to understand. There is much more to tell, and I could edit this later. But anyway, it was good to let go of that.
My father abused my mother and was mentally ill. He left us when I was 3.
I looked him up when I was 18 en got some answers, but that was that.
My mother is an alcoholic en narcissistic.( my English is not that good) I haven’t seen her for almost 14 years now.
There’s no contact with my brothers and sister either . It is better this way. I don’t miss my family, but I do miss a family.
No way, I hope my dad didn’t do that with my mum. 
My dad could beat up your dad no only kidding, my dad is just straight up awesome, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to bring me up and be my role model. Sure we clash sometime,s but that’s because we are so alike. I followed him in the building trade and I’m so lucky to have had him pass on his nigh on fifty years of experience to me.
Yeah he’s just brilliant as is my mum. 
Growing up I didn’t know my father well. He and my parents split when I was only two years old. He remarried and lived in California most of my childhood, though eventually I visited him here and there in the summers. Through all of that time I was aware he drank, a lot. I didn’t fully understand what that really meant yet. More’s the pity…
About 15 years ago there was a moment I felt we were done. He had said he was coming to visit me and my brother for the first time in… ever maybe? It was at a time we had much to celebrate, so it was cool he’d be able to join us.
Until the anxiety of boarding a plane where he couldn’t smoke or drink were too much for him. He admitted this to me on the phone. That was it for me.
Shortly after he had some bad health problems. He was told if he had one more drink or cigarette he would die, period. He quit right then and there, I’ve figured shear force of will.
With sobriety came change. He kept in touch more, never pushing. He got an RV and he and my stepmom made a tradition of driving cross country, in part to visit their children. Slowly things mended.
When I moved cross country to California I knew no one within hundreds of miles. He by then relocated to Arizona (Nevada…?). They drove their RV up to give me somewhere to stay and extra hands to help me get settled in.
We talked more. I started going to visit them every Thanksgiving. I’d learn a little more about the things I’d missed and couldn’t have known when I was younger.
Ironically around the time he got sober I was just getting into my own drinking problems. As time went on for me, removed from family and friends, I went full blown alcoholic. It took me years to accept it.
The Thanksgiving before last, I offered amends to my father after getting a few months behind me. Though on some levels we still have our differences, he had already made things right with me as a father better than I could have asked, and I never had.
Still I had been holding on to something, cuz dammit, that pain from years past was mine! 
I was being a selfish asshole. It was time to drop the rock and apologize for my part in the gap between us and see how to make it whole again.
We talked for a while about it. He knew exactly how I felt. Knew exactly how it was better sober. He told me of those he knew who never worked it out. The ones who are buried now. He told me, laughing, about some bizarre health things I could expect to get better. And he was right.
Frankly he’s still kind of a stubborn asshole at times. Then again, so am I.
But he’s got my back and had for years, and I’ve got his.
My dad has always been there for me with love and support. I would drop everything if called and and needed my help.
My dad is an amature woodworker, growing up I have vivid memories of his strong hands working the wood. Shaping and sanding a board, screwing in a brass screw, or delicately doing scroll work. His hand are big and strong, but he has a gentle touch. Kind of how he lives his life.
He is in his 80s and I realize I have to work hard to make sure there will not be the “I wish I would of…” moment.
Great topic RBG!! Thanks.
My Pa all around good guy. Factory worker entire life, plant management type. Heavy drinker while I was growing up, definitely a surly drunk but nobody ever target of anger. Made deal with my Ma…stop smoking and I’ll stop drinking, he went cold turkey that day and managed to stay sober until she passed away 7 years ago. Today he allows himself one beer or one cocktail between 7-8pm, nothing more. He took solid care of my Ma after her heart transplant, I look up to him with regards to this, taught me how to handle situations that are seemingly out of control. He’s 72 now, slowing down but keeping busy with new wife. I love the guy.
When people in our town, and especially in the music scene put it all together, they were losing their minds. Like “How in the hell did we NOT put this together???”.
So, it’s kind of a legendary tale in the music circles here, which is hilarious to me.
Glad I could share though. I love that dude, and the story really is great.
I love my adoptive dad. He’s taught me so much…but that I fought to be loved by my blood father and lost still haunts me.
I work with it daily. 