Friday, June 4, 2010

still an open wound.

"What's the first thing that pops into your mind when you think of your father?"

That is today's writing prompt over at

I'd be lying if I said that this didn't really make me think.
When I think of my dad I think of a rush of words, strings of memories that make it impossible for me to think of only one thing. Is it because he passed away? Is it because I have alot of crappy memories of him mixed with good ones?..good ones that didn't really form until I wasn't a kid anymore? I'm not really sure. I probably still have to find a way to deal with the topic of my dad..I still haven't had much time to deal with losing him 2 years ago...

Because my mind likes to first gear toward the more positive notes of my dad.. I will say these few words:

....humble, brilliant, and at peace....

My dad was a smart guy who battled alcoholism and depression where the war never ended. For me growing up, he wasn't a happy man. He never even wanted children. Despite that though, he survived for as long as he could. He fought the alcoholism daily, won with many battle scars and even managed to turn his life around. He didn't work the whole time I grew up but proved he was capable when he worked long hours once he moved to Portland.
It was really cool to visit him out in Portland, Oregon and see how he struggled but enjoyed the struggle..because he was still alive and kicking. He lived modestly and took pride in what he had. He didn't have much, but he appreciated it. Long gone were the days when he'd spend every penny we had on an expensive new bike to ride. Long gone were the days where he'd stay up all night to drink.

My dad learned how to live. He learned how to be himself. I am so happy that I got to witness that.
And for that, I'm thankful...

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