This I Believe

I believe in the strength of my father, in the honesty, the power, and the values for which he stands. My father has come to be my source of strength, my reason for honesty, and the originator of my values. Coming from a family of neglect, of fatherless nights, and unanswered questions, he could have easily followed the same path, choosing to follow the course set in the past instead of forging through the unknown, dictating his own future.

Through the ups and the downs of the family, my father was always my beacon of strength. While going through a vicious divorce, he kept the family as united as possible. When my brother craved that feeling of normalcy, of stability, my father was there to provide it. As we watched my mother lose the only house was had ever known, as she ignored us for her own life, as she screamed and fought with us night after night, my father gave us hope while he bought back the house and gained custody of us, turning as back into the family we had missed so much.

When my family fell to pieces after the death of my sister, my father was the glue that held us in place. Despite his own grief, he was always there with arms wide open, holding my tightly after I cried myself to sleep time and time again. Looking into his eyes and hearing his soothing voice gave me faith that I would one day feel whole again. Without him, my family never would have survived the loss.

As I prepared to go to college, I looked back on what I had done to arrive at my present situation. In every memory, every milestone, I found my father. From my first boyfriend, my first heartache, and my first failed test to the friends come and gone, the arguments I had with my parents, and the overly dramatic teenage angst, my father was always there to hold me while I cried and then help me find a lesson I could walk away with.

After my grandfather’s recent, death, I saw a new side to my father. No longer was he the man full of strength and courage that I had always known. When he called to tell me the news, he stayed on the phone as I sobbed. But during subsequent calls, I could tell that was not doing well, that he needed me. As I walked into my grandfather’s apartment and saw my dad, I opened my arms and held him tightly, letting him cry his heart out. As I stepped back, he told me that he was so glad that I was there, that he needed me so much, and I told him not to worry, that I was there for him. In that moment I realized that although he had always been my source of strength and courage, I had also always been his.