My Dad was my hero.
He wasn’t perfect. I thought he was, when I was young, as most kids probably do. But, as the years passed I began to see chinks in the armor and feet that were made of clay. He was, after all, human. But he was my human hero.
He had my back. He reveled in my successes, celebrating and magnifying each accomplishment, sometimes to the point of making me feel a bit self-conscious.
He grieved my failures, hurting for me and with me. And, while never making excuses for me or blaming others for foibles that were of my own making, he never made me feel worse than I already did.
He taught me so much. His words, his deeds, and his own successes and failures still teach me today.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was my father, and I knew how important that was to him.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And thank you.