My Father Was Not Fred Rogers.
I don’t begrudge his disappointment. It is, in fact, reasonable.
To both their credit they have only ever loved their daughters. And I am hard to love.
...that some absence makes the heart grow fonder; too much absence makes the heart forget.
I have written this letter hundreds of times. Never sent.
I don’t know where the line is between when I should just suck it up and keep going and when it’s time to complain. I don’t know why those two things are seen as mutually exclusive. I’m soldiering on after many vocal complaints. Both can exist, I think.
I don’t begrudge his disappointment. It is, in fact, reasonable.
To both their credit they have only ever loved their daughters. And I am hard to love.