Contemplations of a Daughter

I don’t understand why fathers act the way they do. Maybe it’s just a survival method, so that they know their daughters will be in good hands and let their traditions move on. Then there’s the chance that there’s stupidity.

I really don’t know what is going on in my father’s head at times in his moments of fret, anger and happiness. I wish I could read minds and understand people, but I suppose I won’t learn for a long time. At least that’s what he’s told me, to let things be and not get angry over them. Then again, he does get angry over them, how does that work one may ask?

Then again, I wouldn’t know, would I? My only fathers figure in my young years was my Uncle. Today it’s Faralan. He’s been a good man to me, saved my life, my honour and everything you can think of. He saved me from myself, that’s how far he’s gone, sometimes stepping outside his own boundaries. As much as I value that, I’m still confused. What is a father, truly? What are they meant to do, meant to say? As far as I’ve understood a father is meant to be understanding and mean the best for oneself, but still listen to the wishes of the child. To never ignore them and be there when they could.

That wasn’t and isn’t the case for me, and I doubt it ever will be. My real father is dead since years back, and I don’t even know how, I just know he wanted something else for me. So my Uncle says, but I’m not sure what to believe: I feel good now and all, sure I’ve had a struggle, but every time it’s been difficult I’ve gotten through and turned into a better person. I wouldn’t want to go back. What would my father say about that? About who I am: have I done wrong or good in his eyes?

I can only go by what I think he would say and believe, and that’s not much, so even more of my assumptions lie in the hands of others and my view of a father.

A lovely piece as always. I do enjoy reading what you write as it has a certain touch in it.