Father's Day Perspective

Growing up, most men got a bad wrap in my mind.  My grandfather left my grandmother before I was born.  I did not know much about my father, other than he was not there.  My step father was an alcoholic.

May 11, 1996

So each father's day that came, I would call my mother and wish her a "Happy Father's Day" since she was about the only one I felt I could say it to.  We both got a laugh out of it..and so it went year after year.

My Grandpa was one of my favorite people on the planet, and even though I heard a lot of negative about him growing up from my Grandma (I was just around her more often) I still never missed a chance to see him when I would visit home.  He was the one who walked me down the isle on my wedding day. He was always so big to me, and I knew he loved me.  The last time I saw him in the nursing home (he had Parkinson and Alzheimers), he could not recall my name, but he reached for Andrew, who was little at the time and he sat in Grandpa's lap as we wheeled him around the nursing home and all the little ladies "ohh-ed and awww-ed" at baby Andrew. A nurse asked him who his visitors were and he said, "They are mine"..and that was good enough for me.

My uncle spoke at his grave side not long after.  He told a story that I had never heard before.  When he was young he and Grandpa where digging a grave by hand for a church member that had died.  When my uncle asked him why they did not just hire a tractor to come in, Grandpa told him that we take care of our own, and so they kept digging.

Why had I not heard the good stories about him more often? He was not perfect, but he was a good man.  (might have helped if that side of the family could stand each other longer enough for everyone to sit around together and swap stories...sheesh, that's a blog for another day)

Some time later I began to notice some things about another man that were "good".  My father was building a fire in his fire place and he let Andrew help him.  I did not have the patience to let Andrew help with anything like that, he was maybe 4 years old.  I had already been pondering the "goodness" of my Grandpa and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks...was this another good man? Although much less frequent than in the past, where my thoughts of him still framed with the negative? As I watched him be so patient with my little boy, the same little boy who bears his name...the question was answered as soon as I asked it.

The women in my life who told the negative were not lying to me, but they were sharing deep hurts, hurts that changed the course of their lives, and I loved them too.  Now that I am older, have kids of my own, and am separated by nearly 400 miles...I have gained some perspective.  I can love them all.  Grandma decided not to attend my wedding because Grandpa gave me away, and although I was deeply hurt in that moment, I can say now that I would not change a thing.  She missed my big day, I on the other hand, did not miss having a man who had loved me since the day of my birth walk me to my husband. 

Andrew and my Dad

Although Grandpa is gone, I am thankful for the way God continues to open my eyes to see the good in my father.  I suppose 37 years is quite long enough to hold the negative.  I know the facts, and they will always be, but they will no longer rob me of the good there is now. 

Pondering....