esrosedotblog

SENIOR

My Dad died 18 years ago today.

On that day, I became just a plain singular non-junior.

It took me a while to 'get it' of course.

I loved my Dad and I missed him terribly and while his death was not a surprise (ripe old age), the loss was felt no less.

In time, though, I began to realize that it was a pleasure to let go of the 'junior burden' of all those years.

Truly.

I'm not kidding.

When you are a kid and they call you 'junior' all the time, you get sensitive.

Especially when you are trying to put as much distance as you can between your dad and your self.

Now, I feel less inclined to wince if I would be addressed as 'junior'.

No one does it.

The last was my cousin Bernice who left us a few years ago. She never let it go: "Junior this" and "Junior that".

It is interesting though; this increased tolerance to being a junior.

Some time ago I began to see more of my Dad in myself than I had previously seen; a different kind of 'senior' moment.

I also began to remember stuff which had lain dormant for many years; nice things.

I remember that he was there for me when I needed him and stood back when I did not or thought I did not.

I remember that, when a particular crisis hit and I was in the wrong, he stood by me anyway and wouldn't let me get beaten up for something that was really none of my business. I had fallen into a mess and he saw me through getting myself out of it.

You know. Father stuff.

Mostly he gave me the gift of autonomy. Look it up.

I have been a Dad. Well, I still am.

It is a vastly misunderstood job for people who have never had the privilege.

When someone asks some stupid question about male parenting, I do not explain. I don't let them know that more than half of it is not saying what you think and not intervening directly.

It is the slow process of watching and being present and living your life so your kid, particularly the male one, will get that taking responsiblity for yourself, telling the truth and being open to change as well as other—even junior—opinions works in life as well as it does in fairy tales.

And where did I get that? From the old man.

Senior.