Father and Son

[sergebroom]

My father died in Quebec City on Saturday, February 12, 1993... I remember the last times I saw him alive. I was visiting from California in 1990 and 1991 and he and I talked about personal things. Note that this is someone born in 1925, from a generation where people just didn't talk about that, especially not with their kids. He told me how, when I was born, he was so scared because he had never done this, and he was afraid he wouldn't do a good job of raising me. It's weird even now to realize that all this had been going on in his head. He made mistakes, some with long-lasting consequences, but I didn't say anything about that because he did do the best he could and because those were not the words he needed to hear. I told him he did good.