Father's day.
Be thankful for your father.
Let him know how much you appreciate him.
Bittersweet.
I love my dad. Keep this in mind as you read this. Through all the dimwitted stuff he has done, all the promises he has broken, I still love him.
Still though, so bittersweet.
How does one celebrate the life of someone who is constantly driving themselves into a muddy stake-filled pit? Someone who views their earthly body as trash? A soldier who drags himself with one good hand, averting his eyes from the entrance to the open and free hospital to his side?
How does one appreciate someone who does not appreciate you or anything you love? Who takes a labor-filled anniversary present, grunts upon receiving it, and although unwrapped, sets it aside for a week? Who, upon seeing the unwrapped present, mumbles something about how it is nice, then wanders away aimlessly?
How does one respond to the questions? "What are you doing for Father's Day?" What am I doing? What is there to do? Get out of the house and find somewhere to work? Something to batter your body into obedience and your mind into exhaustion?
They don't understand what Father's day means to me. A day for celebration? He is alive. Yes, I have not forgotten this. The path is slow and rocky, but he is alive. Does this appease my mind? Should it? It doesn't. I love him. Without him, my being would not have been. Where do I stand? What do I know? I can't and I don't. Time is the only friend.
If the path is slow and rocky, don't shun advice, walking sticks, water...you won't always know what's right.
If you know what my family and my father have gone though, then what follows will have some context. If you do not, then keep your imaginations at bay. If you are going to judge using sinful human standards, at least don't use scenarios in your mind.
What my dad did is also so much more than what any other dad has done. He wasn't there for all my soccer games. He didn't come to recitals. He rarely helped me through school. He wasn't always there. He let me fall and didn't always pick me back up again. Downfalls? No. Whether he knew it or not, he made me strong. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He made me realize how little value there is in stress. How arguments shouldn't be yelled. How friends should be kept, and enemies should become friends. He made me analyze myself and others. He made me think about what *really* mattered, and showed me how to delineate the two. He made me work, work hard, and work well. When there is a job to do, you do it right, no matter what it takes. He showed me you can always go the extra mile and the extra money. He showed me that you don't need to take credit for something to appreciate it or be appreciated. He taught me that satisfaction is, in fact, a reward. The list goes on and on. Did he know he was teaching me these things? Most of them, no. He has made his fair share of mistakes, and as such, has sacrificed himself as an example for me. I thank him for that.
I love him for that.
J~S
