As a writer, there is something daunting about that blinking line on a blank screen. It's a reminder that words should be flowing across the screen, but there's nothing. That blinking line is even more daunting when I want the words to be about my dad.
Explaining how I see my dad is easiest to start at the beginning. As difficult as it could be, I wouldn't change anything about how I was raised. Dad may not have been around as much as any of us would have liked, but it taught me a lot anyway. It taught me to adapt, to see what needs to be done, to help even when I'm not asked.
Dad has over 20 years of active duty time in the Army under his belt and now his first year of teaching high school Spanish. Despite work and obligations, he always says how much he loves his daughters and his wife. He does what he can to show it. There is always time in his schedule to read one of my articles, look at one of my sister's animations, or snuggle on the couch and watch a movie with the family.
One of the things I've realized is that love is blind, love is forgiving, love is healing, and family is love. One of the things I heard often growing up is that when we move, we don't have anyone but each other. I'm fairly certain that's why my sister and I get along so well, despite how different we are—it was either each other or no one for the first month while we made friends. Friendships have never come easy for either of us because we're cautious in who we choose to let close. Dad taught me that family will always be there, whether you like it or not. The whole family. Dad has always shown me where priorities should be first: home.
I have watched Dad accept difficult jobs, positions that routinely made him want to pull his hair out, so that even if something happened to him, our family would still survive. I've seen the toll it takes on him. Dad taught me that sometimes all you can do is laugh because laughing is better than the alternative. There have been countless times where I have been so tired and frustrated, but I laughed anyway because it kept me moving forward.
Dad showed me that in most circumstances it's best to take what you're told with a grain of salt. I've learned to look at alternate meanings, especially in politics, and know that when a story is coming from one person, there is usually another side. I almost never fully accept what people tell me at face value.
Talking about a problem when you see the problem is something I have learned over time and still have to work on. Dad and I don't always see eye to eye, but he still treats me like an adult, so we're at least able to talk stuff over. This last week, we talked about how to best take care of my 5-month-old puppy while I'm at work after he had an accident in the house. There were some issues to be ironed out and he never made me feel like a child stepping out of line as I explained my position. We both admitted to forgetting that I'm an adult sometimes.
To him, I'm still a 3-year-old little girl with a deep voice and a thick southern drawl (which I thankfully grew out of). To me, he's my dad, he's the adult, and it's his house, so what he says goes. We have to remind ourselves that our relationship goes deeper than that now.
My dad isn't perfect and he doesn't have to be. Honestly, I'm glad he isn't because I have been able to watch him grow into his role as a dad. He's not the same hot-headed guy from when I was in elementary school. Dad has leveled out and calmed down and learned some things himself, like when Mom is happy, so is everyone else. Seeing the changes he made shows me that we are all constantly changing but we have to make sure that we do it for the better and that we always keep the important people in our lives in mind.
Dad explicitly taught me a lot of things growing up, like how to shoot a gun and that he's usually right (as in, hasn't been wrong yet) about the boys in my life, but the things that he didn't realize he was teaching me mean the most.
