My daddy gay

Maybe he meant something else entirely.

I can’t turn back the clock — for him, for my mother, or for myself. I gave my first talk in San Francisco’s famed Castro District, one of the most historic gay neighborhoods in the U.S. I was surprised when I received pushback from two men in attendance.

His stories poured out of him once he came out to me.

That being said, I was probably spared a lot of bullying at school since no one there knew I had a gay father.

I feel quite sure I got lucky in this regard and that many kids with a gay father were picked on for their parent’s sexuality.

How knowing their grandfathers are gay affects my kids

I’m proud of the fact that I and their mother have raised our daughters to not question or judge my Dad or Tom being gay.

They don’t see him as my “gay father”; just my father.

The same is true for my Dad’s husband Tom who the girls call Opa-T (opa being the Dutch word for grandfather).  Our girls simply accept them for who they are, just as they do all their other family members who happen to not be gay.

There’s no distinction, nor should there be.

My Dad sadly passed away in 2014 after a bout with a brain tumor, so sadly my 3rd daughter will never get to know him.

She will thankfully get to know his husband Tom and his new husband George.

I wish I had more time with my Dad. 

As I type this, at age 52, I think about the fact that I didn’t really begin to have an in-depth relationship with my Dad until I was in my 30’s.

By the time I was in my early 40’s I broke away from working for my long-term employer Whole Foods Market.

In light of the fact that you never received an apology for the wrongful accusation, it makes sense that you not put yourselves in the position of being accused again.

DEAR ABBY: My stepdaughter-in-law and I had words several months ago. The following morning, he appeared before a judge for sentencing. The dinner parties they hosted in the 1950s and ’60s were glamorous affairs.

He went downstairs and heard my father speaking in that foreign language. He was 88. As before, I still only saw my Dad a few times a year.

I would still visit him in the summers some, but on most occasions, he would have one of his employees watch me.  I became very fond of these people as they were who I spent the majority of time with.

I was not proud of this.

Contact Dear Abby at http://www.DearAbby.com or P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, CA 90069.