Fatherly Triggers

My dad made plans to visit my grandparents’ grave in the morning, telling me just last night. Um, okay.

This morning he woke me up, in his antsy, impatient manner, the way he gets when there’s something he really wants but can’t wait to get. This is in sharp contrast to his usual “I don’t give a shit about the world except for the stock market” attitude.

While I was doing my usual routine to wake up, reading blogs on my iPhone, he asked me, “Are you going or not?” I sarcastically replied, “No.” His demeanor dropped for a split second, like it used to do when he was about to beat the shit out of me. But these days he doesn’t do that. Nonetheless, that split second reminded me that he’s still my dad, the man who holds respect in the utmost importance. The man who yelled at me when I was a kid, because I jokingly threw a penny at him and told him to pick it up himself.

No, this man, despite him chilling out in his old age, still demands respect from his son.

So I find it surprising that I keep trying to trigger him. I know exactly when he’s antsy and wants something. So I don’t give it to him. I hem and haw. I don’t understand why I want to antagonize the man who brought me up.

Maybe because he’s always demanded everything, beating me to get it if necessary. So now that he doesn’t do it, I am abusing him back my own way.

I wrote the above this morning, still fuming. Spending the day with him, seeing him cry at grandma’s grave, gave me what I needed to be compassionate toward my dad. I’m glad I can continue to work on my issues with my dad.