Thank you

Thank you …

For believing in me …
… even when I thought I couldn’t.

For loving me …
… even when I didn’t love myself.

For showing me the depths of depression …
… and how to continue living through it.

For disagreeing with me …
… because it taught me how to stand up for my beliefs.
… (this one I am still learning.)

For laughing with me …
… because it taught me how to laugh at myself.

For being quietly angry, even if it was toward small things …
… because I learned that anger can morph into helpful action.

For demanding that I watch British comedy …
… because it helped to hone my humour.

For forcing me to listen to “Strawberry Fields” …
… since it made me push through uncomfortable boundaries and find the richness therein.
… (however, I still don’t get Iron Butterfly. You tried, I know you did. But, really? “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”? I preferred it when you were in your ska phase. When I hear “This is Radio Clash”, I still think of you. Just sayin’.)

For being human, and fallible …
… because it taught me how to love you. (And myself.)

For supporting your family, even when you hated their choices (mine included) …
… because you showed me that you really can love someone, even when you disagree with them.

But mostly?

Thank you.

Thank you, for being my Dad.

(And for wearing a damn tutu on your head. Just because I asked you to.)
Dad wearing tutu

Happy Fathers Day, Pop.

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