To My Father

To those of you who normally read my blogs, you probably think he's the worst person in the world, or second worse and put me first. But you have it wrong. You think he's so horrible cause he's done you wrong, you focus too much at that picture and miss everything else. He's a good person and is an honorable man. Helps those he can and always friendly to those he can't. He's changed over the years. Hell, I remember when I was a little kid and go to his work with him. He was an ass, would yell and scream at waiters for writing an order a bit messed up. Thankfully, he's grown more mellow.

There was once a very honorable man, who saved thousands of people's lives, yet had a problem in his relationship too. His name was Oskar Schindler. Here's a bit of what his wife once said of him:
"In spite of his flaws, Oskar had a big heart and was always ready to help whoever was in need. He was affable, kind, extremely generous and charitable, but at the same time, not mature at all. He constantly lied and deceived me, and later returned feeling sorry, like a boy caught in mischief, asking to be forgiven one more time—and then we would start all over again"
I'm not saying that my father has saved thousands, but he has enriched dozens of peoples' lives and created hundreds of smiles and good memories. Even to those of you reading this and don't particularly like him for the wrong things he's done. Can't you look back and cherish the good times? Or have they all been erased by the bad? At the end of the road, all you have are memories, do you really wish to just carry the bad with you everywhere?

As for me, I have tons of bad memories of my father as well. He wasn't around when I was a child, worked too much, abandoned me for years, and left me in a bad situation with my brother and mom that I never really got along with as much as my father. Yet, I choose not to look at these things and mark him for the man he is by the bad things he's done. I look at my father for the good. When I was a little girl and went to work with him sometimes in the summer, he would tigger about and make everyone smile (most of the time). We went to Pennsylvania and he took me on a big scary roller coaster, that afterwords I loved. He got me out of a mental institution when no one else would claim me. Plus, hundreds more good memories.

He is my father, and I'm proud to have him as my Dad. And to my father, "Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you" and damn proud of it. You are my hero, no matter what others say. And I love you Daddy-O, no matter what.