A wise man once said…
William Shakespeare once said it is a wise father that knows his own child. Looking to my dad, I can attest to this age-old adage.
My father has grown in wisdom the older I’ve become. He is one of the five people in my life who knows just about everything there is to know about me. This includes what makes me upset, what makes me laugh, and what irritates me.
Whether it’s little or big bumps in the road, I’ve always been able to count on him for advice, have him as a shoulder to cry on and as someone to vent to without judgement.
He knows I can be stubborn and bull headed. He also knows that many times my stubbornness has a purpose.
I think it takes a special kind of person to understand and attempt to understand another human being. Throughout my life, there have been very few people who I feel understand me completely. Luckily for me, I have always been able to credit my father with this.
My dad has even joked that any man who claims to have me “figured out” is going to have to leave the descriptive volumes and analysis on his doorstep.
I’m often described as “emotional”, “complicated” and “intense”. Due to these seemingly inherent qualities, throughout my teen years, my dad weathered many storms trying to comprehend the driving force behind my emotions. He may not have always known what the problem was, but he could always lend a hand in helping me solve it.
He gave me space when I didn’t feel like talking. On the flip side, he made it clear that he was always just a phone call or drive home away.
I treasure a lot of memories I’ve made with my dad.
He taught me how to drive out on the country back roads. He took me for countless cups of coffee at the local convenience store. He’s even taught me how to polka.
My dad also spent a lot of time teaching me what not to do. He taught me that when you load hogs you keep an even stance or heaven forbid, you end up on your butt after a pig charges through your legs. He also taught me not to think of myself first, but instead see what those around me are in need of and help them obtain it.
Now, my dad is nowhere near perfect. One example being his referring to my senior year prom dress as “great camouflage for hunting”. Needless to say that interaction did not end on a positive note.
Despite all of his imperfections, I’ve been blessed to have a loving, caring father.
I’m pretty stoked to head home this weekend to visit and hopefully grab a cup of coffee like old times. Hanging out with my pops is always an adventure.