Treasure

My father, gone five years now, especially when we all were younger, was a man like most men: a package of good and imperfect, great, and contradicting. Often, difficult to track. My father was reflexively kind, giving, and also with occasional trigger temper, or inexplicable reactions I had to decipher, sometimes clueless on my part, or late understanding something. My father, with his and our family's brutally harsh history, could only do his best, no therapist or relief for support. Our family kept its sanity intact, somehow, including suffering thru many hard moments of conflict and disunity. My father was spontaneously affectionate, hugging and kissing all of us frequently. As I am with our son, same, and hopefully not as complex, but probably also the same. What great good life fortune I've had, first and foremost, the treasure of my parents.