Oh I remember the long walk to my father's chair. Reading your post, guest gave me chills - that long walk, the impassive king waiting-
The little twist was that my mother was completely in charge of communication and affection. Her very own Dep't of C and A. So after I kissed her good night in her chair (a story in itself, yuck) she would ALways, unfailingly say: "Now kiss your father goodnight." As if after so many years I might not.
But I see now that because she decreed it, it couldn't be construed as actual affection for my father, it was a duty, she reminded everyone, including my poor drunk father that had to be performed , every night. Just figured that one out! The few times I showed even a sliver of interest in my father, a word or two even, she was in a jealous rage. I was hers and no one else could share me. When I had boyfriends I guess she handled that by taking what she could from them too. I'd like to say more about this someday but it gets a little hard to handle. Need to feel a little safer i guess.
Les