My dad is not perfect. He is far from it. He will admit that fact to you boldly and without apology. He missed some of my best days. I hate the fact that my family of origin was torn apart years ago. There was even a nine-year silence between me and my father while he hit bottom and finally found freedom from substance abuse. I have painful memories of my father from childhood into adulthood.
But I am thankful for my father.
During that nine-year silence I found out quickly that it is better to have an imperfect father than to have an absent one. My dad is involved in my life again. Not perfectly, but in his own “mistake laden – days gone by – I’m sorry I missed the birth of your children” kind of way. He reintroduced himself again to me