Flying Ace (Six Sentence Story)

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His sons never knew, until they grew up, how difficult it was for their father to be the kind of man he was, deeply loving of his boys, supportive, a man they could admire and respect and who raised them well.

They'd known their grandfather as a silent and rather solemn man; they had no idea he'd given so little of himself to their father, instead belittling and talking him down his whole life.

When their father told his father he was joining the military to become a fighter pilot, his father told him flat out he'd never make it, he'd never be good enough; when he came home, he had been declared a flying ace in the ETO during WWII and awarded several medals, and his father never, ever said a word about it.

When he started his own business, married, raised four fine young men, his father never said a word.

At a marriage seminar he and his wife attended once, one assignment had been to write down the memories of positive interactions with your own father, and after 30 minutes all he'd come up with was the one time his uncle's hat had blown out the open window of the car while he, age 5, was in the back seat and the uncle accused him of throwing it out on purpose, his father had actually come to his defense and said, "He didn't do it, the wind did."

Despite the austerity and severity of his own upbringing, he'd been a man and father to admired and emulated, very likely because he became to his boys everything he wished he'd had for himself.

Linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog, where she hosts Six Sentence Stories, and the cue is Ace.

(Based on a true story I once read, and every time I think of "ace" or "flying ace," I think of this man.)

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