I’ve been wanting to start this thread for quite awhile now. What better time than around Father’s Day?
When I was thirteen, my parents divorced. My father was awarded custody of me and my two brothers, then ten and eight. I’m sure it wasn’t easy taking care of us, but somehow he managed to get us up and to school in the mornings, make us dinner at night, and basically made sure we were taken care of despite the twelve hour shifts he was working. I know he was probably exhausted, but he never let it show.
As I got older, I went through the whole “rebellious teenager” phase. I stayed out too late, my grades slipped, I skipped school. You know, the usual. Dad and I had quite a few disagreements over exactly who was in charge of my life, and he usually won. However, when I turned eighteen and graduated high school, he let go. He knew I had to make my own decisions, right or wrong, and never once when I’ve screwed up has he said “I told you so”.
My mother has some mental problems and is an alchoholic. My brothers and I have trouble coping with the things she says and does when she’s drunk and/or depressed. Dad is always there for us to talk to, and he never badmouths her even when she targets him. He just listens, and as a recovering alcoholic himself offers the best advice he knows.
When I was twenty one I got engaged to the sweetest, most wonderful person I’ve ever met. We’d been friends for a long, long time and I guess love just sort of blossomed. He and I decided to move in together so we wouldn’t have to worry about setting up housekeeping after the wedding. Well, the wedding got delayed for financial reasons, and then again because my grandfather died, and then last September he left me. I was totally devastated, and in some ways I still am. How could someone who told me practically every day he loved me and was so lucky to have me just up and leave like that? I guess one of us was sadly mistaken. Dad had me move back in since there’s no way I could afford rent on what I make, and with his shoulder to cry on I’m finally getting over it and going on with life. I’ll be back on my own soon, and next January I’m going back to school.
Re-reading what I’ve typed, I’ve been trying to keep this (fairly) short and I don’t think I’ve conveyed how much my father means to me, and how much I appreciate all the things he’s done. I’ll just sum up what I’m trying to say here:
Thanks, Dad. You’re the best, and I love you.