Last night I took my Dad to meet the friends I hang out with. It was my Father's Day gift to him.
We will go to my step-mother's father's house Sunday. Last night was just for Dad. I wanted to him to meet my friends and see where I spend my time, among people who are friendly and kind in house that offers reports of laughter instead of shouts and yells and curses.
My friends enjoyed him. He talked about war, he talked about reporting in the old days, he talked about raising kids. And then my step-mother called and his lips formed a straight line and he told me we had to go. So I drove him home and wished I didn't have to. On the drive home, he talked about divorce.
No one should be so miserable in their own home.
She's mad at him because he didn't want her to chaperone her godson in Miami. He was actually upset because her plans to do so completely excluded him.
Neither of them is right or fair. But that is what happens when a man marries a woman for love and she marries him for money. They are intellectually a good match and they have demonstrated caring for each other, but he is at a childish age and she is poorer than she has ever been even though Dad makes plenty of money for an average family....
This is a great part of why I prefer my own little group of friends. I cannot stand to be among bickering and bitching. I cannot save my father. He made his choice and I can only let him know I am here for him.
He enjoyed my friends. They enjoyed him.
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