Thursday, June 17, 2010


My father sent us $500.00 to fix our Honda. I feel awful every time an envelope arrives, and it is addressed to us, in my Dad's terrible handwriting. He always writes a quick note of encouragement, or simply draws a smiley face. My father is an amazing man. He has been a constant, loving, nurturing force in my life, since I took my first breath. He is a gentle man. He is sentimental. He is a mush. He has a love of God, and a Faith that I find both admirable, and strange. Everything he does in his life, he does selflessly. He is a remarkable human being, and I strive to be like him.
Father's Day is in a few days. I wish I could tell my father how sorry I am that I am approaching turning 40 ( ok, next summer I will turn 40) and he is still sending me money to care for my family. I wish I could repay him for all that he has done. My mother, of course, has helped us too. They are married, and what is my father's is also my Mom's, yet somehow, it is different when help comes from my father. My mother makes me feel bad about helping me. She makes me feel less. She let's me know how annoyed she is, and how tired she is of having to do it. I don't blame her. I would be too. But she makes me feel shame, and sadness. She makes me feel like a kid. My father makes me feel like it is temporary, and he never makes me feel like a loser. He makes me almost feel like everything is going to be OK. Just hang on a little longer, and the sun will rise, and the new day will start, and you will be in a better place. Just keep holding on for the better day.
And I do. I hold on to the knowledge that the better day is coming. Thanks Dad. For everything.

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