It's hard for me to talk about my father. It's hard for me to explain the good and the bad and then expect the outcome of opinion to still judge him as a 'good' person when I'm finished. I still think of him that way though, a good person. I think I finally figured out why.
My mother to me, is not a good person. She left my brother and I when we were very young, my brother was so young that he didn't even remember her. My dad raised us, or at least he tried. We never had much of anything. We were pretty much the poorest people that I knew that could still afford to live in a house, even if that house went without electric or water from time to time. Things got a little better for awhile, my dad remarried and had two more kids, we had two incomes, always had water, electric, food...all the neccesities. But as much as I love her still to this day, our step-mother was partial and a bit mean at times. They soon divorced, took my brothers away and we were back to one income. Soon my dad had two more kids, same lady, but after the divorce. They were twins. Now there was child-support and weekend visits in which I was responsible for all the babies. But my dad had to work.
During all of this my father was a raging alcoholic. He got mean when he was drunk and sometimes he got over emotional and would tell us how proud he was of us and just cry. My dad never told us things like that sober. We were the family that didn't talk about feelings, emotions or life. We just co-existed in a home where we knew we could count on one another if the need ever really arised. I was lucky enough to make friends with a girl who lived a couple of neighborhoods over. Her mother was my gaurdian angel for the longest time. Without her I would have went through so many things without any help or guidance.
But still, through all of this, my dad was a good person. I truly feel like my dad always tried. I feel that if he would have known how, he would have done more, given more, loved more. I know my dad loves me. I know my dad would give the world for me if he could. But he can't and although he doesn't say it, I don't need to hear it to know it's true. So despite all the hardships during my childhood, I still think of my daddy as a good person. I don't look back with hatred but more sadness, for him, for us, for the situation. I love my dad and I'm pretty proud to call him mine.