No matter how much I might have wanted it, my father was not capable of opening up emotionally and talking about how he felt.Just like my brother, it was just how it was.
My mother however, never changed her behavior or her interactions with me. She always looked for ways to try and manipulate or demean me whenever we were together. She would write glowing letters about my sister’s and brother’s families bragging about all of their daily chores and the grandchildren’s taking first steps, winning little league games or achieving an award at school. Meanwhile, never acknowledging my letters or accomplishments which included winning auto cross races, first place medals in down hill snow skiing and achieving top sales accolades in a Fortune 500 company.
I knew my father had admired our neighbor who flew small planes so well after a year of having my pilot’s license I called to see if my parents would like to have lunch one Saturday. I told them I would be at the Comptche airport around 11 and if they were free I wanted to see them.
My father readily agreed so I told him I would call once I arrived. It was just before 11 when I landed and called them after I tied the plane down. They arrived shortly after and I asked my father if he would like to see the plane I had arrived in. He simply said “Okay.”
I walked them over to the Cessna 182, a four passenger plane I had flown. I asked if they would like to get in the plane and my mother said “Oh, you’ll get into trouble!”
“No mom, I know the pilot!” I answered.
My mother got in the back and my father sat in the right seat. Once I got into the pilot’s seat and explain the panel to them I started the plane’s engine.