Dad: Part 1.5

I don't know about you, but I do some good thinking while in the shower.

I was thinking a lot about the last post, the first in the series about my dad. I was thinking about what I wrote. I don't regret what I wrote. I wrote truth.

I want to be clear about my intentions in writing this series. I want to be clear for you the reader, and for me as I write.

1. I do not, by any means, want this to be a blog bashing my dad. Though my dad made poor choices, as we all do, he was still my dad.

2. Though I don't have many good memories with my dad, I do have a few.*
*When we spent the summer in TX after I finished the 7th grade, my dad got my sister and I summer passes to Splashtown, so we could go to the water park while he was at work.
*When I didn't have school, I would sometimes go to work with my dad, he let me sweep up the sawdust from the tools.
*My dad always let me raid his ashtray full of change.
*My dad loved Nascar, he would fall asleep watching any race, I would try to change the channel... he would INSTANTLY wake up, insist that he was listening to the race, and would make me change it back.
*My dad took us camping and tubing down the river any chance he got.

3. The stories that I tell, and the journey that I am sharing is my own. My sisters have had completely different experiences with my dad. We each had individual relationships, that look and feel different for each of us.

4. It isn't that my dad didn't try to have a relationship with me, he did. He tried, as best as he knew how. I know that I am not an easy person to love all of the time, and neither is he. In a lot of ways we were like the two magnets that seemed to repel each other. He would try, then fail. I would try, then fail.


I just wanted to be clear of my intentions for writing this blog.

Truthfully, this is mostly about me having an outlet in this grieving process.