Who Were These People?

So many times I've been talking with Mr. Ginley and said, "I wish I could ask Mom (or Dad) about that." 

It's probably an aging thing (or perhaps it's our impending grandparenthood) but we find that we're reminiscing more about our parents. And there's so much more I want to know.

But all I have are faulty memories, photos, mementoes, and a lot of baggage.

I mean, who as a teenager thinks to ask their Mom or Dad what hopes and dreams they gave up to raise us kids?

I did learn that my Mom had a yen to pursue art. She told me once that she wished she'd gotten formal instruction. In another time and place, she probably would have. But she had six kids instead. Don't get me wrong, she said she had no regrets, and we knew she loved us. Still...you have to wonder about unfulfilled dreams.

As for my Dad, he was such a hardass when we were growing up, as many men of his generation were, and reluctant to talk about any dreams that were left behind. He went right from high school to service to his country to marriage and fatherhood. What would he have pursued if the expectations of his time hadn't existed?

I also think about my parents' relationship. They didn't argue much in front of us. Dad sometimes yelled at Mom, which would upset us. But it wasn't until later in life that I realized how deep their love for each other went. He sang "You Are My Sunshine" to her every night before bed, until the dementia came. Mom looked after him for the rest of his life, talking to him as if he understood everything. And, who knows, maybe somewhere deep inside, he did. 

In the end, it turns out we really don't know our parents at all. We make assumptions about who they were based on our own telescopic perception. Did we mistake discipline for a lack of love? Did we think our parents were too hard on us? Or not hard enough.

In the end, we have to acknowledge that our folks, with all their faults, did their best. As those of us who are parents understand all to well.

And hope that our children cut us a break for the mistakes we've made.

Or, as Mr. Ginley was fond of telling our own son, "This is nothing that years of therapy won't cure."