More on fàmily

There is no doubt in my mind that my younger siblings had totally different parents than the older ones. I think they learned as they went along and didn't repeat all of their initial mistakes. I think that's true even for the worst of parents.

I'm also aware that my male siblings were treated differently than my female siblings by both our parents. I experienced the boys being allowed to make more mistakes and the girls had the expectation of being responsible. Not responsible for the boys, just to be mature.

It took me a lot of years to realize some of these things, and obviously, they're just my perspective.

I remember when we knew that dad's illness was terminal, I thought about how I could express my gratitude for him. I remembered that he had always loved Ave Maria, and because he loved music in every way, I thought it would be wonderful if all of us kids could sing it together for him. I called an organist we knew who agreed to help us. After our first big practice we had some discussion and I sensed that some people were having second thoughts about doing it. One asked why we were doing it and when I tried to explain, he responded by saying that if he wanted to tell Dad something, he would talk to him. As the conversation continued, it became clear that dad had also talked to them. I had no idea and didn't want to continue with something that the others didn't want so we didn't do it.

I doubt very much that I was the only girl who went, wow, he never talked to me unless it was to tell me what to do when I piled bales on the wagon or in what way I had done something wrong in the barn. As I was the third girl in the family I felt the real sting of not being the awaited son. As such I often went to the field or barn with dad. It didn't hurt that I was always physically strong, so we would often spend all day together in the field during the summer and never spoke 2 words.

I remember once when I was first alone with my kids after Paul left, I really wanted to talk to dad and get his perspective about something. I found the courage to go to him, and before I could even tell him what I wanted to talk about, he told me that I should probably talk to mom. I know he was doing the best he could, but I was devastated.

For many years I also thought that both of our parents were equally religious. When Dad retired and sold the farm he continued to be very active helping at the church, while mom was less so. After dad died, I found that even more so.

I might have continued to think that they took their religious responsibilities equally seriously. When I was a teenager however, I overheard a conversation that led me to believe that having children wasn't discussed because it was her obligation to submit to dad in this regard. As an adult when she came right out and admitted that she didn't know if she would do it over, I honestly felt like she was confirming that. I'm pretty sure that there were times when the last thing she wanted to do was have sex, but I admit that I don't know that for sure because she refused to talk to us about it when we asked.


Maybe dad was a better father than I remember. Maybe he was a better husband than I perceived him to be. I know he was a good and pious man and that he loved mom and us kids the best he could. I think he died never knowing what the priests had done to some of us, and in some way I wish that mom never knew either. (It wasn't me who eventaully told her.) Maybe it was partly the reason that she didn't follow blindly any longer...

Reading this over, it sounds a bit like a pity party and that's not what I intended. It also feels a bit disjointed and I've erased whole paragraphs already. I'll just assume that it's ok to leave it here.

By the way, I don't have much difficulty listening to others. I actually think I'm kind of good at it! I have a much harder time listening to myself.

Love, elly