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Not as Bad as I Thought

June 15, 2007

by Amri 

My poor dead dad. I’ve blogged him to death. And written him to death as he was the theme of all my angsty teenage poetry and short stories. My parents divorced when I was 9. He died when I was 13 of complications of Type 1 diabetes. He was also bi-polar and unreliable. He was pretty bad at being a dad, but 17 years is a long time to work things out. I care about him now and I see more clearly the circumstances in which he was working and failing as a father.

Mostly I haven’t had a father. No male role-models. I have older brothers but luckily they were just brothers and not fathers to me. No bishops or home teachers or Sunday School teachers that tried to take me under their wings to father me. When I was pumped with hormones as I teenager I thought I was pitiable. My problems were due to my fatherlessness. Thus the bad stories and poetry rehearsing my life without a father.

I don’t know if I like it or hate it now but I don’t mind it one bit. Nor do I think I’ve lost much. I’ve got issues, no doubt about it, but I know just as many people with living fathers, involved fathers that have issues too, even some of the same as me. I don’t know how those people got screwed up but clearly no-dad status isn’t the only thing that will make you need a therapist.

I hope everyone has two parents that love them. At least like them. I hope they have parents that pay attention. But if they don’t, life’s no so bad. I mean, you might turn out like me.

I’ll celebrate my dad this father’s day. Maybe build him a shrine. With a viola, some hiking gear, microwaved bologna and a sign that says you didn’t really screw me up, Dad. I love you.

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