It's a lovely evening and tomorrow is Father's Day. When I think of my own father, now dead for three decades, he was double barreled about speech. He had a gift of loving speech and inspiring talk, but he had a temper and was harsh and judgmental at other times. His sarcasm was biting, and my brother and I picked it up, to my regret. I can usually think of a snappy comeback, but censor myself, because my father really could hurt people around him by his speech. He was especially hard on my mother, and she fought back as best she could, but he was formidable. Yet he had a tender side, and the problem was I never knew which speech was going to issue forth. His mother had a sharp tongue, and he and his brother seemed to inherit it. His father was a gentle, sweet man, and my dad and uncle could be that as well.
His speech was uncontrolled. He just let it fly, except in business situations. There was no pause, as I have trained myself to have. And I don't believe he ever understood his effect on people. Shortly before he died, he asked me if I thought he'd been harsh with my husband, and I was shocked he'd have to ask. Yes, I said. Yes, you have hurt him and that hurts me. After that he tried to make amends. Maybe if he'd had a chance to live longer he would have really transformed himself. But he died at 65, and we didn't have time to remake our relationship. I adored him, but had to put on mental armor to engage with him. I miss him deeply still. He was complex and interesting. I never doubted his love, just his judgments.
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