I find this time spent with just my father to be precious, priceless.
So many conversations about life, love… amazing… priceless.
I think I even cried last night… at the bar… my father talking about his life, his love…
“All I wanted to be was a father. I remember when I was young, screaming at my mom, telling her, ‘I’m going to be a damn good father!’ But then I gave up on it all… I gave up on love and banked on forgetting about wanting a family. Then I met your mother and I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. I didn’t even want to fall in love with her… but your mother, she lights up a room… and I couldn’t deny that.”
All my father wanted was a family? Me? He wanted me and my siblings? Us? Wow. And the love he has for my mother? Undeniable? Well, hell. That’s powerful. Unbelievable.
I thought about it all day. Sat here, at my computer, listening to my father speaking again… took a picture of myself. Looked at myself… my goodness, I look older. I look changed. I’m not as pretty as I once was, as skinny as I once was, as lively as I once was, even as happy as I have been… but my goodness, I have grown.
Torn apart. Sewn together by words of hearts that wanted me, craved me, and a belief in a love that may not even be wanted, but has a pure power that is undeniable.