One of the very few things I am afraid of is....

Hello all my loyal readers.

SOme of you who are reading this know me personally, some of you don't. Those that do will know that my father is one of my favorite people in world, warts and all. ( I hate that expression by the way.) I am afraid for him. J.D., as he likes to be called, has found himself back in the hospital, and it is my fear that he is going to be there until he passes away. I just have this feeling.

My father hasn't always been what people would call "nice", but that's only because they see the gruff and tough show he puts on for others. In truth, he is one of the nicest, sweetest people I have ever known. Of course he used to smack me around when I was a jackass. I deserved that, and it was mostly because I caused undue stress to my mother. Someone who my father has been devoted to for over fifty years. He has also taught me everything you need to know about being a man. And I don't mean all this tough-guy, hardass bullshit either. J.D. was never afraid to show affection to his children, and he has always been proud of having a large brood. He has shown me that in order to achieve anything, you have to work for it. You don't take shortcuts, (unless driving) and you always do your best, because a half-assed job will always have your name on it. He taught me that pain shouldn't hold you back, and that sometimes life hurts and won't give you a break. I learned these things not from his words necesarily, although some things were spoken, but mostly from his actions. There are so many other things, that I just don't have space to enumerate here.

My father has always done anything he can to help somebody out, or to provide for his children. Often going without just so we could have things we wanted. I look back a little guiltily at times for the things I did have growing up. We weren't rich, but I never went without anything. He could fix a meal that would make people literally beg to come over and eat, and he did it on a shoestring budget. To this day, my friends will truly fight over eating the last meatball, which he taught me to make.

My father lived everyday in pain. He has broken almost every bone in his body. He fell from a roof he was working on, and had a tanker truck back over his legs immediately afterwards. He has been struck by lightning, and had hot asphalt (tar) blow up and cover his upper body. Hell, on his seventh birthday, he was run over by a car, and shattered his arm, among other injuries and could have died. The doctors wanted to amputate, but my Nana wouldn't let them. She knew my father would pull through it, because he was a tough son of a bitch. On top of all the aching from old injuries, he also has arthritis, and two fake knees. Until his stroke, none of this stopped him from doing the things he did.

The whole point of this post though, was to tell you one the very few things I am afraid of. Well, J.D. is one of those things, not because he can be pretty damn scary when he's pissed, or because he was one of the strongest men I have ever seen. No. But because I was afraid of being a disappointment to him.

I love my father very much, and the thought of losing him before I make him proud is one of the things I am very afraid of.