Dad Love

I love my dad, a lot.  As a kid, somehow, I got the notion that for him to love me I had to be like him.   And I am like him, in a lot of ways, so it was easy to focus on developing those aspects of myself and interests that I share with him: intellectualism, athleticism, entrepreneurship, politics.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve become more drawn to other interests:  mindfulness, psychology, Eastern-ish philosophy, practices to cultivate  gratitude, wonder, and kindness.  

And my focus on these interests has felt like a betrayal of sorts, a moving away from my dad, who I adore and always want to be close with.  And he has a lot of that stuff, the gratitude, the kindness, the wonder, without working it as much as I’ve needed to do.  

So that also, in my mind, can feel like a failing of sorts.  Like why can’t I just be at ease and happy like my dad and still full of fire and going like gang busters like my dad?  Like my is-ness is not as good as his is-ness.

So I’ve worried.

Would my dad know I still loved him even if I didn’t read the Wall Street Journal or even The New York Times?  Would my dad know I adore him even if I let Ax’s hair grow long, let my tennis game go, and give up my lucrative career?   

Would my dad think I’ve become a nut because I go to meetings, to therapy, to yoga, that I meditate, that I eat a plant-forward diet?  Would he not love me if he found out my is-ness is actually not totally like his at all, or at least not exactly the same?

Would he know I love him, and would he love me even though I’m doing this life thing a little differently than he’s doing his?  That I admire him even though we are different?  That I’m grateful for who he is and all he’s done for me even if I live this way, pursuing these interests, in this town?

And so these are the child’s fears that as an adult I get to look at and decide whether or how these fears serve me now.  They don’t.  I love my dad, he loves me.  We do the best we can for each other.  We are incredibly close.  It’s not complicated.  We are so similar, but not the same.  I don’t expect him to be like me to love me, and finally I see that he feels the same way about me.  Thank you dad.

I’m gonna keep going.

www.livingeveryminuteofit.com