This is an excruciating post to write. It’s about an extreme paradigm shift. My entire life, even in the context of the many of me, my father has always been my hero. If I could write down all the reasons for that it would take me hours or days to complete the task. In many ways he is a truly honorable man. We have always been aware of moments when he was not there for me as a dad. Some of them big moments; but we have always seen those times as the exception to the rule. I think in the back of my head I always thought of those failures being due to my extreme needs more than any defect in his character. Nearly every time we have a conversation it ends with him saying he loves me. I am very sure he is completely sincere when he expresses those sentiments.
But in the course of the last few weeks I’ve been challenged to wonder just what he means when he says it – as in how would he define the love he has for me. I finally decided to find out, and the conclusions I came to are piercing my heart.
I need to finish this another time.