December 2011

Growing up I think that I can say my biological father and I were not very close. We didn’t do a lot of things of things together. There were the moments when he would go to the farmer’s market and take me with him or wake me up to tell me don’t be late for school. Other than that there wasn’t anything else that we talked about or did. It wasn’t until I started transition that he and I became really close. This was shortly before he died.

Strangely enough my father being an older man with older beliefs never showed much opposition to my transitioning. He was suprised to see after so long and I didn’t look the same. I don’t know if maybe it was because he had become ill which is what some have suggested and he just didn’t want to waste the little time that was left. I don’t know. I’d like to think that it was more than that.

I remember sitting there next to his bed. This towering man who for all my life seemed so strong and fit, harsh with little emotion looked at me and smiled. I was afraid up until that point. I didn’t know what his reaction to me would be. I didn’t know what he would say, because nothing with him was ever subtle at least not to my recollection.

“You look very nice,” he said. I’ll never forget that.

I think I got closer to him after my transition that I had over the course of my entire life prior. At least that’s the way that it felt. We talked more about feelings-his feelings and mine. He for the first time really asked me how I was feeling and told me that if I ever needed him don’t hesitate to let him know. I tried not to ever ask him for anything because I’ve always been so independent. Maybe in a way that is a fault of mine, not wanting to ask for help when I need it. I can at times be very stubborn and won’t quit even when I can’t win.

“You can come around me whenever you want,” I remember him saying as he lay in bed looking at me with a smile.  I wish he were here now. But just like my beautiful grandmother he has passed on. Those last years were stronger than any distance that we ever had. He was always happy to see me and I was always happy to see him. It’s remembering his acceptance and that of grandmother that makes me feel good when my transitioning is criticized or someone tries to make me feel like I’m less than the woman I’ve become.  I am father’s daughter. Missing him this holiday season.

Thanks for Reading.

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