My mother was a very authoritarian German woman. When I was a kid and on into adulthood, I was afraid of her. Mostly, I realized not so long ago, she was bully.
On her deathbed, she told me that she had wanted to apologize to me for years for kicking me out of the house when I was 18. She came home from work and I'd moved out. She was shocked because "she didn't mean it, never expected it". I had already planned to move out, just did it a couple weeks earlier, so I was all set.
I always believed the consequences when she threatened me, and worked hard to avoid them. I don't remember why I was kicked it. Probably for not doing something to meet her needs instead of studying for school and working. For example, she made me get a job, which was fine, and she approved of it since it was within walking distance. I started working and then she screamed at me to quit because when I unlocked the front door at 9 or 10 pm, coming home from work, it woke her up.
Or maybe it was because she found a piece of lint on the carpet after I vacuumed, and she decided I never helped around the house. It could have been anything. Meanwhile, I carried on (until I moved out) trying to please her by doing everything she asked and trying to figure out what she wasn't asking so I didn't get in trouble for not doing it.
Now, I am like my mother in some ways. I love color, teak furniture (Scandinavian from the 1960s), love traveling, going to museums, symphonies, and plays. Love reading. So she had plenty of good points, too. But living with her was always like walking on a tightrope. When I visited her in her last 8 years of life, I just did whatever she wanted because I wanted her relationship with me to be pleasant for her, instead of her getting mad at me all the time for nothing.
My Dad worked all the time. He was in the USAF. After work, he attended college full-time, and earned his bachelor's and master's degrees in business subjects with 4.0 averages. He taught us to play chess. I hate playing chess. He treated his daughters like a protective bear with everything ranging from boyfriends to yard work (girls don't do it).
I am the only one of his kids from my mother who stayed in contact with him. I'm pretty sure that stems from my dad divorcing my mom and marrying his receptionist. In addition, my mom had nothing good to say about him and said it often. This includes telling us she would have killed him (literally) if she had not moved us to another state. He hated her, but never said one bad thing about her. I had expected them to get divorced for a decade because I could not see how my dad could stand being married to my mom. Of course, I did not see a complete picture -- my dad could do no wrong in my eyes, but my mother was scary.
I miss him a lot. He was excellent at problem solving. He was a high achiever. Making a B was the same as a failing grade to him (his expectations met our abilities, but sometimes a girl has to have fun). He didn't volunteer much personal information, but if I asked him directly, he always responded with a full and truthful answer, no matter how personal the question was. He also asked my advice once in awhile - like about whether to divorce his second wife. I said no, for very good reasons, including that he would rarely see the daughter he doted on (she was a young child) and she would very likely be turned against him. He and his wife, from what I witnessed, had the same marriage all through the years that they always had. They got along fine.
I liked my stepmother and half sister, and still do. Everyone thought my stepmother was weak and that she would literally fall apart (like mental hospital time) when my dad died. She did not do that. She is stronger than anyone gave her credit for.
