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Jan. 7th, 2002 08:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
threeplusfireMy father seems to like my tattoo. We ate lunch at Trudy's, nachos and grilled chicken and vanilla ice cream. I hope I can see my father more often. We talked a lot today, about the divorce, the years before. It was difficult.
He did tell me of a romantic story about my grandfather. My father was seventeen, hanging out in a pool hall when some other fellow called him a son of a bitch. My grandfather happened to be there. He grabbed this kid by the throat, lifted him off the ground and drove him into a wall. He shouted, "Go ahead and say what you want about my son, but don't you ever say anything about my wife." My grandparents had a relationship more volatile and passionate than I had realized.
We talked of the early years, my childhood. My father cried a little, which is a rare thing. He told me how I was such a quiet and smiling child, how I never cried, how my parents woke me in the middle of the night time and time again because I was so quiet they feared I might stop breathing. I t made me happy to know my recollections are not just the tinted memories of a child. It was real. There is hope.
He did tell me of a romantic story about my grandfather. My father was seventeen, hanging out in a pool hall when some other fellow called him a son of a bitch. My grandfather happened to be there. He grabbed this kid by the throat, lifted him off the ground and drove him into a wall. He shouted, "Go ahead and say what you want about my son, but don't you ever say anything about my wife." My grandparents had a relationship more volatile and passionate than I had realized.
We talked of the early years, my childhood. My father cried a little, which is a rare thing. He told me how I was such a quiet and smiling child, how I never cried, how my parents woke me in the middle of the night time and time again because I was so quiet they feared I might stop breathing. I t made me happy to know my recollections are not just the tinted memories of a child. It was real. There is hope.