Know this—I do grieve for not being there for you. Physically. I know what it's like to occupy a single bed for years and years. But I also know what it's like to share it with a sister. As much as you were not always the best sleeper, I miss that.
The purpose of this blog is to have open, honest conversations with you. And tell you things that are helpful but sometimes hard to explain.
Daddy and I became really great friends in December of 2008. That's the year Damani left for school in Cuba. It's also the year you and mommy went to the states. Daddy and I were alone for several months. To be honest, tears are surfacing as I write this—I don't know why. Daddy and I were just okay before then, we didn't talk much. There were more neutral interactions than outright great ones.
But you all left, and suddenly we were all the other had. And the house was dead silent a lot. So I went out with him more. We went to Andall's together a lot more, we went on long evening drives, sometimes we even went out to things, though I couldn't tell you specifically what those events were thinking about it now. We were forced in the car together for long periods of time. And neither of us knew how to talk to each other.
In fact, for years, we didn't know how to talk to each other really—as daughter and father. And I had a million and one quiet criticisms about our relationship.
I really didn't like that. I could tell it wasn't his ideal situation either. So he did what he knew how to do—he made me feel deeply loved. He treated me with soft drinks and nice foods and was more cheerful that Christmas than he had been in years. For other people, that may not have been enough, but for 15 year old me, the gifts made me warm up to him more.
But we'd go home and it was quiet without the three of you at home. There was very little movement in the house, and I spent a lot of time staring outside at the empty yeard when he was gone and I was home alone.
The silence was jarring at first, but he soon came to use it as an opportunity to show more of himself.
What I learned? Daddy is funny and intelligent. And he is a man that's both stubborn and humble. There are times he will prefer to hear something from a peer as with most men. But if you slow him down and use reason and logic, he will listen. We had conversations about God and family during that Christmas and subsequent months. They were unlike any conversations we'd had in the 15 years prior.
I made a decision to open up more to him and be more honest. And it worked out for me in the long-run. I think that December solidified our relationship and earned me his respect. He has changed over the years. Sure. But the same idea applies. In moments of silence, challenge him with what's on your mind. And if he's being stubborn or won't listen call him out on that bullshit.
He's not too grown to listen to his adult daughter. No matter how old he gets. You have to make the decision to talk to him. Why? Because he spent many years not saying much about important things. It's a weak muscle for him. And so he needs to be challenged and stretched to grow. Be tougher than he is in order to get to the important things he may not open up about.
Your relationship will be the better for it. But not if you back down the minute he pushes back or is impatient. Call. Him. Out (respectfully). Make him cut it out.
Don't just think weak communication between you and daddy is exclusive to ya'll's relationship. Many other relationships in your life will face a similar challenge. In fact, for years, I had a hard time opening up to people I met in school and at work, even though I saw how much good communication and vulnerability can add value to relationships.
That's why I'm glad that when I was impatient, cold, stubborn and wasn't very communicative, my roommates took the time to call me out on my bullshit. Over dinner, they respectfully asked me to open up and change my ways. I hated hearing it. I rebelled in the moment. But now I'm more communicative because I was lovingly challenged by people who are patient enough to wait for me to open up on my time.
I'll be praying for patience for you. I want you and daddy to have a better relationship that he and I did at our best. It's possible. It's good. And family is worth the extra effort.
I love you, Danielle. More than you will ever know.
The purpose of this blog is to have open, honest conversations with you. And tell you things that are helpful but sometimes hard to explain.
Daddy and I became really great friends in December of 2008. That's the year Damani left for school in Cuba. It's also the year you and mommy went to the states. Daddy and I were alone for several months. To be honest, tears are surfacing as I write this—I don't know why. Daddy and I were just okay before then, we didn't talk much. There were more neutral interactions than outright great ones.
But you all left, and suddenly we were all the other had. And the house was dead silent a lot. So I went out with him more. We went to Andall's together a lot more, we went on long evening drives, sometimes we even went out to things, though I couldn't tell you specifically what those events were thinking about it now. We were forced in the car together for long periods of time. And neither of us knew how to talk to each other.
In fact, for years, we didn't know how to talk to each other really—as daughter and father. And I had a million and one quiet criticisms about our relationship.
I really didn't like that. I could tell it wasn't his ideal situation either. So he did what he knew how to do—he made me feel deeply loved. He treated me with soft drinks and nice foods and was more cheerful that Christmas than he had been in years. For other people, that may not have been enough, but for 15 year old me, the gifts made me warm up to him more.
But we'd go home and it was quiet without the three of you at home. There was very little movement in the house, and I spent a lot of time staring outside at the empty yeard when he was gone and I was home alone.
The silence was jarring at first, but he soon came to use it as an opportunity to show more of himself.
What I learned? Daddy is funny and intelligent. And he is a man that's both stubborn and humble. There are times he will prefer to hear something from a peer as with most men. But if you slow him down and use reason and logic, he will listen. We had conversations about God and family during that Christmas and subsequent months. They were unlike any conversations we'd had in the 15 years prior.
I made a decision to open up more to him and be more honest. And it worked out for me in the long-run. I think that December solidified our relationship and earned me his respect. He has changed over the years. Sure. But the same idea applies. In moments of silence, challenge him with what's on your mind. And if he's being stubborn or won't listen call him out on that bullshit.
He's not too grown to listen to his adult daughter. No matter how old he gets. You have to make the decision to talk to him. Why? Because he spent many years not saying much about important things. It's a weak muscle for him. And so he needs to be challenged and stretched to grow. Be tougher than he is in order to get to the important things he may not open up about.
Your relationship will be the better for it. But not if you back down the minute he pushes back or is impatient. Call. Him. Out (respectfully). Make him cut it out.
Don't just think weak communication between you and daddy is exclusive to ya'll's relationship. Many other relationships in your life will face a similar challenge. In fact, for years, I had a hard time opening up to people I met in school and at work, even though I saw how much good communication and vulnerability can add value to relationships.
That's why I'm glad that when I was impatient, cold, stubborn and wasn't very communicative, my roommates took the time to call me out on my bullshit. Over dinner, they respectfully asked me to open up and change my ways. I hated hearing it. I rebelled in the moment. But now I'm more communicative because I was lovingly challenged by people who are patient enough to wait for me to open up on my time.
I'll be praying for patience for you. I want you and daddy to have a better relationship that he and I did at our best. It's possible. It's good. And family is worth the extra effort.
I love you, Danielle. More than you will ever know.
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