A Different Kind of Tata
If you’re reading this and you know my dad, you know he is far from ordinary. Growing up with a parent with my dad’s personality-type was both fun as he was often seen as “the party dad” and equally as a challenging for a variety of reasons. I get my love for life from my dad, no doubt. And his work ethic — both of my parents have strong work ethic.
When we were younger we would go to Holy Cross for midnight mass on Christmas Eve. My dad would bring a flask filled to the brim with rakija and pass it around on the mezzanine where all the other part-time Catholics would hang out. My friends loved this because we were 16 and who didn’t like the scandal of partying in church. The mass would drag on for two hours and we take smoke breaks in the front, glassy eyed from the booze kicking in. Then the party would resume at my house until Christmas morning, facilitated by my father. It was like former Yugoslavia in Stoney Creek — Croats, Bosnians, Slovenians and even a few Serbs would come out for the occasion.
Our backyard faced the corner of a busy intersection and my dad found great joy in waking up early to cook breakfast on the bbq in his bright yellow Speedo, crazy loud balkan music, the Croatian and Canadian flags (later Cuban when he got with his current partner) like it was the United Nations. This backyard also had a pool that became the community disco with its endless supply of alcohol and free-for-all. There was rarely peace but there was always fun.
When I stopped drinking alcohol over five years ago I was afraid of losing certain parts of my social life — red wine drinking debates over politics and religion in the garage with my dad being one of those times. Although my dad and I are similar in some ways, we do have our differences and these debates always left me with deeper perspectives on life… and really gnarly hangovers. It took him up to last Christmas to admit to himself that I do not drink anymore.
There are many stories I can share about my father but my favourite one is that we came out of some really hard, terrible shit that most broken up families don’t survive. They often hold on to these stories and they get passed on. Part of choosing a different life, was choosing peace, forgiveness and understanding of my past. I think that’s why my parents are who they are in this life — because we all, in a way, chose to move forward with empathy.
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