My father was more important to me than my mom. I was always with him. Shared his hobbies (even fishing and snakebreeding :-) ). I was 14 when he died. His heart simply stopped beating on Dec 23rd 1996. That was the day my whole world tumbled down. I’m still trying to rebuilt. My mom and I had never been so close. She worked hard for my brother and me, but couldn’t stand the stress and started drinking. And when she was drunk in the evening all her frustration, anger and depression came out. She directed at the only persons who were there, my brother and me. When she was not drunken (most of the day) she was a lovley person but she couldn’t help neither my brother nor me. My brother commited suicide in 1999 and my mom got cancer. It made her more vulnerable and more aggressive. About half a year before she passed she stopped drinking and I’m really grateful for these months, because she was a completly different person then.Kind, nice, easy to talk to. My mom was a real fighter but she lost against the cancer in 2001. I really loved her and it was hard to see her suffering from the cancer. I was mercy when she was able to close her eyes forever. But to be honest even now after nearly 12 years I start crying when I think of my papa. He tought me to be a good person, showed me generosity, kindness, and lots of other things. I think it’s basically him, who made me how I’m today and in times when I feel like I’ve lost myself I try to remember that. Reading all your posts reminded me to do that more often and it gives me hope.

Pick a favorite parent? My mother was an excellent mother, and my father was an excellent father, and together they created a warm and loving home full of creativity, music, books, and “cool.” I have no favorite parent; I loved them equally, for different reasons as befitted their very different personalities, styles, and tastes. I have still never met any two people more suited for each other, yet with less in common, than my parents. My father died at 62, of complications from diabetes, but even after going blind and losing both legs, he would never allow us to park in the handicapped spot. “That’s for people less fortunate,” he would say. And we would reply, “Dad, you’re blind and you have no legs. There IS nobody less fortunate.” But he would just laugh and make us park somewhere else, because he felt that accommodations were condescensions and he would have no part of them. Mom is 76 now, looks 50, and has more energy than a 3-year-old. Yes, my parents were awesome.

My father was the parent who “saved” me - with his steady, truly nonjudgemental love throughout my life. His support and affection countered my mother’s habitual negative \criticism and at time outright dislike of me. My dad was a Holocaust survivor from Vienna; he had a wry sense of humor and a high intelligence. My mother was Brooklyn-born, also intelligent and studious. She was very interested in politics (liberal); she talked often about her youth and the turmoils of the Depression and the war years, and in doing so she passed on to her children (my younger brother and me) a sense of those times and the need to make the world a fairer and easier place for everyone, not just those with the “right” skin, religion, beliefs. She read a lot (it was she who brought into our house “The Feminist Mystique,” right after it was published, and I, too, looked at it and read it, eventually). Well, after all this, perhaps my mother’s influence, for good as well as ill, was equally important (and valuable) to that of my father. My mother died in 1980 (right after John Lennon’s murder); my dad, in 1995, and it is he, not my mother, whom I sometimes dream about.

My father, for he gave my brother and I a love for baseball that has never left me. He would have a catch with us whenever we wished and was there for us in our formative years. Field of Dreams still raises tears in the final scene even after all these years. When I came back from Vietnam it was he who helped restore me to sanity for he had been in WW2 and knew what he had to do for his eldest son.

Two such different people can’t be measure against each other. My father was a quiet, kind man who dedicated his life to his wife and children. My mother was a pistol who would tell you what was what and if you didn’t like it that was tough. I loved them both enormously, and I miss them both with all of my heart. … now I go cry a bit….

I was the youngest of five children and raised in a home surrounded by unconditional love. My father passed away when I was 22. I loved him dearly, but my mother was the love of my life. To me, she was the dearest mother in the world. As I became an adult, she became my best friend. She went to heaven in 1964 and I miss her still - I guess I always will. I always thought my parents and my family life were the norm, but realize now that that was not the case. I was tremendously blessed.

Good old Mom. She’s not perfect, didn’t meet me at the door with cookies and milk, take me on play dates or volunteer to be the room mother for my class but she taught me to ride a two-wheeler (and put the Band-Aid on my knee) when neither of my older siblings or Dad would take the time. She guided me through the recipe for tomato soup (from scratch) and shared her sewing expertise while I constructed my first bikini. Firmly planted in my mind is a little ‘video’ of Mom placing a bookmark where she was in whatever book she was reading, sliding her glasses down her nose, tilting her head so she could see me over them and listening completely to what I needed to tell her. One of the best things She did was use phrases like “raging conflagration” in everyday conversation which made me run for the old beat up dictionary from its place of honor to look it up. Mom made me learn to look ‘it’ up. Now I can do almost anything because I know how to look ‘it’ up. That’s huge!

Definitely my mother, who knew how to love unconditionally. She had 4 children within 3 years, and I was a twin, and the youngest. She was ribboned with sensitivity, and when I was eleven, her alcoholism roared out. Before then, she was there and loved me, no matter what. My father was crispy, intellectually proud and critical, and other things. I was afraid of him, not physically but emotionally. I probably am my mother, same type of genetic makeup but different tools to cope with addiction. My father influenced me though, maybe by the hurts I perceived he instilled. As a result, I got my self tucked into therapy more than once and feel like a rebuilt truck emotionally. but it was the negative attitude or his disdain that pushed me down a road towards wellbeing and achievement. I loved my mom totally though; she died when we were 17, and i recommend Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman as the best book on losing a mom, no matter what age. I am a loving mom; bent over backwards maybe too much for my son so he would never feel as hurt as i did. Now I think less would have been more, but he’s a great guy

Father or Mother… I was close to both. When my mother died nine years ago it literally knocked the wind out of me for a solid year. When my father died two years later, it was like losing her all over again. I miss them both but dream about her frequently and miss her every day.

my dad!!! was the best, mom was so domineering(SP), she taught me everything I know but it was just through watching and being yelled at when didnt do something right, she spanked us which of course wasnt all that bad but she didnt treat me and brothers and sisters nicely at all ever. Dad never said a cross word to us or scolded us, he was so kind to all of us. Emotional tears still flow when I think of him and how much I miss him.

Like all parents, mine each had their strengths and their faults. My father, was in some ways a typical man of the “greatest generation”..devoted son, serious, hard working loving but not very “open” father. Both my parents respected and expected academic achievements but it was my mother who talked like to talk to us for hours and allowed us to venture in non traditional paths. My mother is now in her early 90’s and living independently, working out at a fitness center 3 times a week! She is definitely a role model to me now. Over the years I have learned from both their strenghts and their faults what values/behaviors I want to keep and those I chose to reject as a person, mother, wife. I consider myself very fortunate!

Both were important for different reasons. Mom, because everything I am that is good, kind, fair, unpretentious, natural, earth-connected and genuine comes from those Celtic genes. She was 4th generation Californian, descendant of George C. Yount….Now, on the paternal side, I am a recovering Mafia daughter. Dad, was first generation NY Italian boy from a broken home when the only legal grounds for divorce was adultery. Seems, Grandma couldn’t stand my controlling grandfather and the “bloodline” runs through her. Whatever “shadow” work our ancestral relatives abdicate, we are left to do or bequeath to our own progeny. I am grateful for both of them. Hindsight being what it is, I am seeing them more clearly now than ever before. I have written the revisionary herstory on my antecedents, giving the script of the “ideal” parents life and a place to retreat when I need to. I would never trade either of them, though. I am blessed because of them….love sent for all, in joy

Who was most important to me, my mom or my dad? I was lucky to have two good parents. My dad passed on to me his work ethic, his sense of community involvement and his gentleness. My mom passed on to me the love of reading, writing, a strong sense of right and wrong. I was closer to my mom when I was young, and closer to my dad through my teen age years. I could never have made it through the first few years of adulthool without having their support and their guidance. I was “Buds” with my dad….but in the long run, it is my mother’s words that often come back to me as I consider options, alternatives and directions in my life and in the life of my kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. My mom’s guidance, sometimes appreciated and sometimes (unfortunately) not as appreciated as it should have been, is her legacy to me; thus, I would have to say my mother was more important in my life.

I am a blessed with a strong and loving relationship with both my parents. They are still alive. My Father is not in the best of health. My Mother is his caregiver. Mom and Dad live almost 300 miles away. We see one another often but talk daily on the phone. The relationship I share with Mom and Dad is a strong one. They are still teaching me how to get what is rightfully mine. We talk about balancing work and family life. Both remind me of what I am supposed to provide for my family. But they also tells me to do what tugs at my heart…just to make it happen. I am my parents’ daughter. Proud as anyone can be that these smart, intelligent people who have the ability to forecast into the future raised me. I am proud that my A-type personality comes from Elizabeth. I am proud that I can go toe to toe (defending myself) with the best of the best – and be victorious and that comes from Bill. Both made sure that as a child I understood the importance love, family, working smart, investing, etc. My parents planted those things that have bloomed in my heart and spirit. Today I am sharing with my daughter what is in full bloom. My ability to love unconditionally… my sincere heart… my drive and determination…my desire to help others. Mom and Dad are still married celebrating 50+ years together.