My dad nodded, like that was good feedback.
And I cannot describe to you the shock I felt at what my dad did next, because such a thing had never, to my recollection, happened before.
He spoke in awhole paragraph.
A long one.
I’m telling you, the man must have been holding in an emotional Mount Vesuvius, because once he started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop.
There might have been more words in this one moment than all the words he’d ever spoken to me before that.
“You know,” he said, watching the ocean, “my parents never got along. They fought all the time. They barely tolerated each other their entire marriage. I never remember them laughing, or having fun, or even touching. And the thing they fought about was money. Every day, they fought about money. I grew up poor. Paycheck-to-paycheck poor. We were always struggling. So it seemed pretty clear to me that being poor was the problem. And when I met your mom… I just fell so hard for her. I wanted us to be happy. I always thought my number-one job was to work hard so that you kids and your mom could have a nice life. What if we lost the house? What if one of you got really sick? What if I became expendable at work? So I said yes to every opportunity, and I took overtime, and I gave it all I had. But everything’s a trade-off, JoJo. You can’t be everywhere at once. Being at work meant that I wasn’t at home. I told myself it was better that way. That the best gift I could give you kids was time with your mother. I thought if I could just do that, we’d have nothing to be unhappy about.”
My dad pressed his hands down on the ship’s railing. Then he took a deep breath. “Maybe I took your mom for granted. Or our family. But that was because, for me, there was never any question. You all belonged to me, and I belonged to you, and that’s just how it was.”
My dad looked down at the water, then up at the sky. “But I guess that wasn’t how it was. I worked too hard. I was gone too much. Your mom was unhappy. I thought I was the only one who was lonely.”
And then, I swear to god, my ex-marine dad’s eyes filled with tears.
“Have you said all that to her?” I asked.
“I’m just trying to get through this wedding,” my dad said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “But you’re also—at the same time—trying to save your marriage.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“It’s not over ’til it’s over,” I said. “You should say all of that to Mom—exactly the way you just said it to me.”
My dad looked down at the water skimming the edge of the boat below. He nodded, like he was really considering it.
I felt an impulse to hug him.
But we really didn’t know each other that well.
Instead, I just stepped closer. “Dad,” I said. “I believe you. And I want you to know something: I am on your team.”
My dad frowned, like he hadn’t realized there were teams.
So I said, “You’re not alone.”
And then my dad sighed, like those were words he hadn’t realized he needed to hear.
As if she sensed us talking about her, my mom appeared on the deck, saw us, and started walking in our direction. I could tell, even from a hundred feet away, that she needed those flowers and she wasn’t too pleased with our dawdling.
My dad could tell, too.
“Talk to her,” I urged.
“She’s busy,” my dad said. “I don’t want to add to her stress.”
“It’s not stress to find out that your husband loves you madly.”
My dad blinked, like that was really a new way of framing it.
“Tell her,” I said. “Tell her you love her! Tell her you were gone all the timebecauseyou love her. Tell her that it wasn’t neglect—it was the opposite. Tell her how hard you were trying. She thinks you weren’t around because you didn’t care. Don’t let her leave you for the wrong reasons!”
My dad’s face was tight with worry. “Can you write all that down?”
