How does one encapsulate the life of a father? Can a fitting tribute really fit within the confines of a solitary blog post? Maybe for some.
In a very literal sense, my old man is my best man. Not only did he fulfill said role at my wedding, but the daily example that he is far exceeds the symbolic.
I will never measure up to my father. Please don't contradict me, it's the truth. Don't feel badly for me either, for I have yet to meet the man that does. Most of us find reasons why we are not able to accomplish. We retreat to the warm bosom of excuse at the first sign of adversity. Before even. We set out with pre-made excuses for the eventuality of failure.
Not my dad. Never my dad.
Why is it that those with the most valid reasons to yield to circumstance or disability fight most vehemently against the notion that failure is ever an option? Why are the eternal optimists of this world those who have seen its darkest nights? Is it because such people have been to the basement and know that everything else is up? Is it because they were born with just a little something extra that the rest of us fear we don't have?
War scars a man. It touches his body, and it touches his psyche. Some never move past it. Others embrace it. A select few leave it in the rearview as just another experience in a life that will not be derailed. They wake up in the morning and put on the missing pieces. No, that's not quite right. There are no missing pieces. None that matter anyway. If anything, there are more than with which they began.
We stopped wrestling in the family room when I was in high school. Something tells me that my dad was not ready to come to terms with a son who had grown physically stronger. I would chide him for dodging matches, but he would steadfastly refuse. He needn't have bothered. Though I would eventually grow larger in stature, he would always dwarf me as a man. The diminishing ability to hold my shoulder blades to the carpet for a three count in no way changed that.
On this Father's Day, I take stock of my place in this world. I am a father now as well as a son. Though the key to the potential which has always been locked deep inside feels no less slippery in my grasp, I know I will wrap my hesitant fingers around it some day. When that happens, I will have my father to thank for supplying the map, and my own sons for providing the impetus.
I'm excited to meet that man.
Thanks, Dad.
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