My Dad was dead twelve years and I was still angry at him.  I still remember the last conversation I had with him and he said he was more impressed with the million dollars his future son-in-law made selling his company than anything I did.  My writing did not matter to him.  I tried to tell him, maybe, my words might have more effect on people than my future brother-in-law’s money.  It was to no avail.  Money meant more to him than anything else.  I never got “the blessing” from him.  And even today, years later I was still angry about his rejection of who I was.  He was the one person I wanted to please.  And even now the hurt and pain has not gone away.

My Dad was dead twelve years and I was still angry at him.  I still remember the last conversation I had with him and he said he was more impressed with the million dollars his future son-in-law made selling his company than anything I did.  My writing did not matter to him.  I tried to tell him, maybe, my words might have more effect on people than the money my future brother-in-law made.  It was to no avail.  Money meant more to him than anything else.  I never got “the blessing” from him.  And even today, years later I was still angry about his rejection of who I was.  He was the one person I wanted to please.  And he just could not do it.  And even now years later the hurt and pain had not gone away.

Sometimes our families know us too well (and don’t).  I am just referring now to the family I grew up–particularly my two sisters and my parents (though both dead).

Why is it your immediate family dismisses your gifts?  You have to get validation from the outside?

I remember the last conversation I had with my Dad.  He was much more impressed with the million his future son-in-law made selling his company than anything I did.

It is true I was not successful in making money (or amassing a fortune) but I spent a lifetime writing and none of that mattered.  Only Money.

My two sisters also take my gifts for granted.  Maybe, that is why we have to make friends—people who are not blood.  They choose to be our friend.

They are attracted to us by who we are although it is still disappointing to me that I never was truly appreciated by the family I grew up with.