Mildly dysfunctional

Every family is somewhat dysfunctional, some profoundly so. I have a friend who grew up in a house full of fear. Fear of retribution, mostly for being born, but that story is for another day. The dysfunction in my family was emotion. Showing true emotions or talking about the emotional implications of our actions and words. We discussed world affairs and history and writing and reading and art and beauty and all the things that smart cosmopolitan families talk about. My father was a newspaper man for 40 years, he knew everything and what he didn't know my mother knew. I could ask him to edit a story, explain a war, how an engine worked or help me spell obstreperous but I couldn't ask him how it felt when his oldest son was diagnosed with cancer. We didn't talk about feelings unless it related to something outside ourselves. I remember my father talking about his love of dance. He loved the fluid motion of their bodies the way they seemed to float just above the floor, effortless flight that took your breath away. The perfection of their bodies the way light played on the curves of their muscles and made them seem magical. He could understand the magic, the power or dance, music, art, photography and words to evoke emotion. In this way he was accessible to me. He was open and loving, he never hesitated to put his arms around me and tell me I was his "golden girl" and that he loved me. He taught me so many of the things that make me who I am, things I hope I have the courage and the words to teach my son. In other ways he was closed to me, always distant. This is why I turned to writing. I was free to feel whatever I wanted without thinking, I could let my true emotions out. I could tell my journal how scared, happy, sad, lonely, depressed, insecure, conflicted I was. I could pour out all those things I wanted to tell my father, that he couldn't hear, because he couldn't share. He grew up in a time when men were "strong and silent". You did what you had to do to provide for your family and you taught your children the lessons they needed to learn to get through life. I always thought it odd that for a man who was so open to emotion in the world was so closed to it in his family. The place where he should be the safest, he was so guarded. He couldn't see what we needed from him was the freedom, permission if you will, to be emotionally available, honest, open. If he was always strong and sure and never let his weaknesses show, how could we?.........More later