Familial Musings

I said I'd take a moment to post about my father. The problem is, in posting about my father, I'm likely to injure the feelings of other members of my family. I wouldn't hurt any of them if I could ever help it. So, the abbreviated version is simply this: I am my father's daughter, and although we rubbed each other the wrong way on many occasions, I suspect that was as much from our similar personalities than anything else. He had his way of thinking about things, and I have mine. In many ways, he taught me more about life than almost anyone else, and in the end, he taught me how to die with grace and dignity.

So, whatever disagreements we had, when it was all said and done, were meaningless.

The older I get the more relaxed I get about my familial relationships. The hurtful things my siblings did when I was young no longer matter in the scheme of my life. The thoughtless remarks my father made when I was growing up are moot now. About the only one I speak with on a regular basis is my mom. She's one hell of a human being, and she's the kind of woman I'd like even if she weren't my mother. I'm a lot like her, too.

It sounds weird to say it that way, but most kids tend to take after one parent more than the other. Lord knows my siblings are split: two are like Dad, two are like Mom. I feel like I'm equal parts of both of them mixed up with the woman I made myself into. (i.e. Recipe for me: 2 parts Dad, 2 parts Mom. Add experience and knowledge. Mix well.)

Anyway... Life's too short. Maybe if I'd learned sooner to stop trying to dance with the pig, I would have been able to spend some happier times with Dad before he left for good.