Acceptance

I have been unfocused lately, so the thought of a cohesive post on just about anything eludes me.  I did several tasks this weekend, but there are so many more to be done.  I got some rest this weekend, but I need so much more rest.  I feel happy to read everyone's happy thoughts on Father's Day.  I feel sad to read some sad thoughts on Father's Day from those who have lost their fathers or never got what they wanted from their fathers.
I could be in both of the last two camps since I have lost my father and I didn't get much in the way of ... well, anything ... from my father.  I could be jealous of those who had incredible relationships with their fathers and learned tangible things (such as changing a tire, mowing a lawn, fixing a shelf, etc.) or intangible things (how to have discipline, a good work ethic, etc.)  from their fathers.

I choose my feelings and how to react to situations.

I choose to feel fortunate that I knew my dad for many years.  I choose to be happy that he's no longer in pain.  I aspire to have his zest for life and the twinkle in his eye.  I choose to refuse to go down the road of where a low self-esteem takes you.  He taught me that you don't have to be perfect to deserve love. 

What can I say? There were many good qualities about my dad.  There were many not-so-good qualities.  For as weird as the situation was with him, in my dealings with my father I never wished for a different father.  If I think about it for any length of time, my father taught me an intangible lesson of acceptance in the absence of perfection.  It is easy to accept perfection in your eyes.  What is tougher is knowing that you are looking at a battered person and accepting him for who he is and not being disappointed that he's not meeting what your image of perfection is.