Dads... Again...

6yrs isn't long enough for the painful sting of loss to fade, stem the irrational feeling of regret, extinguish the burn of lost opportunities or to stem the flow of emotion that still occurs when I think of my father.

Who said I was perfect?

I never claim to be perfect nor do I ever wish to be perfect. Take the first two definitions of the word:

-Having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be
-Free from any flaw or defect in condition or quality; faultless

Is it attainable? Maybe. But do I want to be? Never. I am flawed. I embrace it and just the thought that there isn't one thing about me that is perfect, tickles me.

We all say we want the perfect person, perfect life, perfect everything. But when it looks perfect to someone else, chances are it isn't. There are flaws in everything around us and in us. I'm not being cynical, I'm just sayin'.

I mean wouldn't perfect be boring? Once you have achieved perfection, what else is there? How can you top that? You couldn't, so you might as well turn up your toes because there's nothing more for you to achieve.

I'm never going to have the perfect skin or perfect body. My kids aren't perfect because we dont live in Utopia. The love of my life isn't perfect, but we are perfectly matched with our imperfections. Its the one time it seems perfect is achievable, when you can match your imperfections perfectly to someone else.

I'm human, not a robot. I have feelings and emotions. I just may not express them to the degree some may like but again, I'm not perfect.



True love does not come by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.