Deep Conversation

I do not remember any truly deep conversations with my father.

My father was someone who did not really trust the power of words. I have come to appreciate, since he died, that words could not express his deepest experiences or feelings.

Both of my father’s parents had already died by the time he turned ten years old. He was raised by two aunts, both of whom were schoolteachers. When I knew them, many years later, my main impression was that they were people who wanted me to be quiet.

My father served in the military during World War Two, which he rarely mentioned. He studied engineering, but left school before finishing his degree. He worked on an assembly line. He was not passionate about his work; it was not his calling. He worked, primarily, to make sure his children went to school.

My father told me to stay in school so I did not have to work for a living. Eventually, he said that I was “educated way past my intelligence.”

When I finished law school, his friends told me how proud he was of me. It was a revelation to me, the first time I had any idea.

If I were to describe my father in one word, it would be “expectations.” He was a person who worked hard to meet expectations, and who expressed himself to me through his expectations.

He worked hard at a job that did not fulfill him to meet his own expectations of himself. Within a few months after retiring, he suffered a fatal stroke.

He had his stroke on Fathers’ Day.

In many ways, my father’s expectations shape the deep conversations I have with other people now.

What deep conversations will you have today?

Who are the people you wish you had been able to know before it was too late?

[Image by Andrew]