My fathers house is currently being inspected and treated for “asbestos.” Some cancer causing compound that was use in building houses before [something like that]. He was going to check in to a local hotel, but I offered that he come stay in my house. It was tough convincing him [ he always have this notion in his head that he doesn’t like bothering anyone ], but after mom talked to him — he finally agreed. “But only a couple days,” he said.
My father and I have this distant relationship. Probably because I’ve only seen him once or twice during my childhood. He’s been living here in the US since 1980’s [martial law, post Marcos era] and I didn’t decide to stay for good till the late 90’s, so there goes our excuse. We’ve been living separate lives for the longest time. Plus, there’s the issue of my homesexuality; which added more distance to what seems like “so already far away” relationship. [ He’s ok with my sexuality, but he still has reservations. I guess, that’s normal ?]
But nonetheless, we’ve established respect and occasional conversations. Most of the time, we would talk about his travels and work in the military. He was a nomad in his younger years, traveling was part of his job. He would usually share his experiences, places to see and things to do. He was my Frommer’s Guide in traveling.
These past couple months, we’ve been seeing a lot of each other. With his house and my house being renovated [mine is just minimal compared to his] both at the same time, we find ourselves talking more; from home repairs, landscape design, tools and gardening. It’s nice we’re talking and spending some time, but it just feels weird. [ The good kind of weird ]