One day you’re in diapers; the next day you’re gone.
But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul.”
[ The Wonder Years ]
My father is far from perfect: More an uncle than a father at best, more a stranger than a family member at worst.
I wanted to write so many posts about him (and maybe I still will), but I’ve come to realize something important lately:
All the harsh words and all the too tight teddy-bear-hugs;
all the missed P.T.A.-conferences, hockey meets, my 18th and my 19th birthday;
him still giving me € 50,- “travel expenses” every time I go to see him;
all the leaving me at home at nights when I was young and bringing back random women to “cuddle” (as he put it);
all the disappointment I’ve seen in his eyes when he talks about the potential I had;
all the letting me wait for hours in his office because he forgot;
all the excuses and all the times there should have been excuse but there weren’t;
all of his lack of interest in anything I did during my teenage years;
all the awkward moments when he tried so hard to fill a mothers shoes (bra shopping being one of them);
all the times he let me down and all the times he picked me up;
all the fights and all the laughter;
all the living and struggling that went on between us and will go on until the day we leave this earth;
all of that and so much more is him trying.
Thank you, Daddy: Happy Fathers Day.
[ “That’s Me Trying” – William Shatner ]