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Last week my youngest son and I visited my father at his new home in Tucson, Arizona. He moved there a few years ago, and I was eager to see his new place and meet his friends.
My earliest memories of my father are a tall, handsome, successful man devoted to his work and family, but uncomfortable with his children. As a child I loved him; as a school girl and young adult I feared him and felt bitter about him. He seemed unhappy with me unless I got straight A's and unhappy with my boyfriends if their fathers were not as “successful” as he was. Whenever I went out with him on weekends, I used to struggle to think up things to say, feeling on guard.
