My Father ***Low stress wk 47***

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My Father Low stress wk 47

This was hard to write I had started the journaling a while back and today decided to scrap it and share it with my fellow peas.I used bg pp and the big chip board letter from bg. mm chipboard, some fabric. metal bookplate.the journaling reads:My father, he was definitely not the perfect father, heck, he was not even a good father, he was not a bad father he was just my father. When we lived in Cuba I remember him taking me everywhere with him, we would go to my grandmother house who lived in a different town at least twice a month. He would sometimes take me to the theater. When we came to this country I was 7 and I remember him taking my sister and I on Saturdays to the Laundromat to do laundry were he would sit and smoke his cigarettes and my sister then 7 and me 8 did the laundry. My brother was the “boy” so he just ran around and did nothing. My parents got divorced when I was 13, because my Father was a ladies man and drank too much and work too little. However, he was my Father and I loved him unconditionally. I never judged him and what happened between my mom and him was their problem my mom never spoke a bad word of him to us, but I would overhear my moms friends bad mouth my dad and make my mom look like a martyr and maybe she was but my father is my father no matter what. He was a so call “dead beat dad” but my mother never pressures him to help financially with us. Which I found stupid on my mother but that was her choice. He would take us to the skating ring and took me to one high school football games (I was very persistent). However, he never seems to have money for a dress or a pair of pants. As a teenager I rebel against my mother a little, she was extremely strict. I would go and complain to my father and he talked to me in the raw (he was a little too explicit and right to the point for some) about boys, sex and drugs, I truly believe that because of his talks I never had sex, as a teenager and never done drugs. My father never had a good life after his divorce, he probably had a bad life, never had a real home and even lived like a bum at some points in his live (woman and alcohol tend to destroy people like that). When I got married, he was there for me, he did not like whom I was marring actually his words to me were “you are making the biggest mistake of your life”, (he was right) but gave me his blessing. When he died at 53 from a horrible car accident, in spite of all the grieving and the intense pain in my heart and soul, I felt peace. I believe God Blessed me with that peace because I never judged him no matter what and never tried to change him, because that is who God gave me as a father and I would love him for all eternity. My Father.