I believe that I am lucky.
I am who I am because of my father. When I think about all the lessons he taught and all the activities he introduced, I cannot help but smile. Whether it be my love for the outdoors, my enthusiasm for baseball, or my lust for fast cars, he inspired them all. He disciplined me when need be and loved me always. He told me stories that his father told him and that one day, I will tell my child. In my eyes he was perfect, or as perfect as someone can be. If I could rebuild him I would not make him stronger, nor faster. Even if I did have the technology, I’d make him the same.
Don’t get me wrong, he had his faults, but alcoholism is a disease and I didn’t hold it against him. Sure he missed a couple of sporting events because he was in jail for D.U.I. but the amount missed was miniscule when compared to the amount he actually came and saw. Besides, many kids grew up without fathers and some have dads, but hate them. It is for this very reason I consider myself lucky. Would I not be selfish if I didn’t?
My father may have killed himself after a heart breaking divorce due to an equally heart breaking struggle with alcoholism, but those twelve years he was with me were the happiest of my life. I can recall countless fishing trips, numerous hunting adventures, and timeless hours of catch that him and me shared together. Now, although he’s gone, I continue to incorporate the things he taught me in every day life. Often I find people telling me, “Oh dear, that is so sad!” or, “How unfortunate!” but I know it could be worse.
I believe I am lucky. That is not to say I believe in luck. They are two different concepts; do not misconstrue them. The latter of the two contradicts logic. I also believe in logic. Therefore, it is only logical to consider myself lucky when I compare my fortune to others. Good fathers are not a dim a dozen.
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