Member-only story
This Is Us
What My Father Did to Me
The truth of your life is always there — and the more you hide from it, the worse it haunts you
The cops swarmed toward us.
Have you ever been in a riot?
There were screams, but there was also silence. Enough silence to hear bones crack.
Out of that memory grows a profound connection.
In my life, I’ve wandered into some wild places. I’ve taken long drives in the night across bridges and thought to stop and just end it. But I found help—a doctor who spent a lot of time with me and talked me through the rough bits. It was a relationship I treasured, but it also reached a place where I needed to move on.
At our last session, the doctor said something that put me back on my heels. He said, “I sometimes wonder what your father did to you?”
First off, I love my father. Let’s be clear on that. He was a man I respected my entire life. His own life was full of achievement. He was a good dad. He was funny. He was a great public speaker, and he raised us on this grand adventure.
My father was an American diplomat stationed in London, Johannesburg, and Melbourne. Good postings. The family traveled with him — our little family…
