I had a dream last night. Dad wanted me to get an apartment on my own. He actually thought I had and was angry when he still found me living at home. I was going to school and had no job, so I explained that I thought he meant when I finished school and had a job. He informed me I had it wrong - he meant now.
Is it time to move on in some way? Time to start taking ownership of my own life and stop looking up or over my shoulder and hoping (mom and) dad would approve? How deeply rooted the voices of our parents can be in our lives.
Funny how I feel all grown up, but have yet to fully proclaim and own my independence.
Dad and I struggled all my life to be able to talk to one another. From the time I was in 2nd grade and mom sent me to ask him for help with my math homework all the way to the time he was ill with cancer and wouldn't tell us he was dying. This is my attempt to figure it all out and ask you to share your stories of dads, death, and coming into your own.
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