Ask Lemmy

I've had a few" landmark moments" with my dad over the years. A lot of my experiences growing up with him were not positive. I think the most important thing I learned about him was that he wasn't a bad person. He genuinely wanted to do the right thing. He was (and to some extent still is) a broken man who's own father completely destroyed him. That realization made it easier for me to forgive him and work towards repairing our relationship.

The most important thing I learned from him was that anger is a cancer. If you can't learn to let it go, it will metastasize. It rots you away from the inside out; physically, mentally, and spiritually. Robbing you of joy and cutting you off from the people you love while doing nothing to resolve the things you're angry about.

I am extremely thankful that I learned that lesson at a relatively young age and before I had kids of my own. By the time my dad figured it out the damage was already done.

When he grabbed my by the throat and lifted me up a wall. Because i hit a door jam with a table leg, while moving it from the living room to the kitchen so he WOULDNT get pissed.

It's a tie between him repeatedly raping my sister in our shared room while I was present and when he shot my viszla in front of me. Good times, dad. Happy father's day.

My dad constantly yelling at us. Telling us we were stupid and wouldn't amount to anything.

One of my sisters turned out that way, and I blame him for it.

My other sister and myself are both college graduates.

She's an engineer with a degree in math and engineering. I recently resigned from my geologist job to go back to school for biochemistry.

The reason it made such an impact on me is because I swore that my kid would never hear such talk from anyone in the family.

He just finished the 3rd grade at the top of his class in both math and reading.

I love my dad, but I can only really think about the time he slammed my head through a wall when I was a teenager. I don't even remember what I did that pissed him off enough to do it. It's the only time he ever laid hands on me.

My father died when I was a baby

Him not being a part of my life for about 20 years. We've since reconciled to the point where we visit each other about twice a year and call every few months, but the relationship will always be a bit strained.

I don't think he ever quite readjusted to civilian life after his time in World War II. He talked of it constantly, watched documentaries and war pictures.

His misogyny.

"It's ok son. Don't listen to her. Your mother is fucking insane."

To this day I still can't tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke.

It killed him in the end, of course, but we'd lost contact for several years by then. I wouldn't be surprised if it kills me too, even though I haven't directly smoked a cigarette in my life; my lungs definitely accumulated enough crap over my childhood to kill several grown men; couldn't breathe properly until I was an adult.

I'll never forget being around 12 years old and hearing my dad address another adult by Mr+surname. It was Mr Palmer who organized the little league I grew up playing in and my dad coached. In school we were forced to address teachers and staff as Ms, Mrs or Mr but at that instance I realized treating others with respect is a choice

I thought that my Dad always killed flies with extreme force, until I saw him releasing them outside from his fist.

When I was lime 6 or 7 he told me that he broke a gay guy's nose because he hit on my dad at a rest stop bathroom.