Member-only story
I Was My Father’s Least Favorite Child
But I never questioned his love, however, I now know the kind of parent I must be
To be fair to him, he never said this explicitly.
My relationship with my father was always weird. We lived in the same house as a lot of families do but I can’t say we ever had that bond that some girls have with their fathers.
He wasn’t violent or abusive, in fact, he rarely ever disciplined me, the few occasions when he did were like a peep into his soul: so this is how he feels about x and y behavior, so this is what his thought process is like, etc. Discipline was my mother’s area of jurisdiction and forte.
However, my siblings seemed to flow with him better, and this became increasingly obvious when he became ill and was unable to move as much. I used to think that this weirdness was in my head alone until a sibling made a remark about our relationship; it was hopelessly uncomfortable.
I was about ten years old when I noticed that our relationship was off. This was when we embarked on a road trip to our hometown, just the two of us. It was a three-hour drive, I sat at the back as he drove, and not one word was passed between us, apart from him asking if I was hungry. Don’t get your hopes up, this didn’t lead to any real conversation.
