When life hands you lemons, make lemon meringue pie

Happy Birthday Dad!  Today you would have been 81. You died almost ten years ago, next month. It's crazy how long you've been gone and how much has changed since you left us. Today I bought Lemon Meringue Pie in your honor to share with my girls. I have fond memories of stopping at the pie shop on our way home from Paoli Peaks after a day of skiing. You taught us to work hard and play hard and indulge on occasion. You yelled a lot but you loved a lot too. You probably yelled because you loved. And loving is hard,  isn't it? It's fucking hard to care SO MUCH about someone and think you know what's best for them, and will maybe stop their suffering or make them happy and them watch them do the opposite. It's hard to raise children who are independent and go toe to toe with your ideals. Who fight back and yell back and don't take "no" for an answer. It's hard to know what to do when you were raised one way and you're supposed to raise your kids another way. Because the books or the doctors or society says this is now the way to do it. It's hard to have specific values that differ from mainstream values (like around healthy eating or exercise or video games or whatever the newest thing is) and to watch your children buck and fight against the choices you're trying to make for yourself and for your family. It's hard to work and endure the stress of work and money and then spend it on your kids who have no idea of what it took to bring them the life their living. Of how that life is being paid for.  Of the experiences you're providing them or the gifts or lessons you're trying to impart. I can't even imagine how frustrating it was for you when we said we didn't want to ski or play tennis or swim or whatever life skill you taught us. God! We had no IDEA!!

And now here I am a mother of two girls. Who I love so much I could physically consume them and then give birth and consume them again and again and again.  That's graphic. But there's no way to really describe the love you feel for your kids. But there is also this WEIGHT. This feeling you have to do right by them. And then when they're not cooperating, or worse, that love turns to frustration and resentment for all you DO for them. But then the second you yell, or worse, you regret it. You LOVE THEM. You would do ANYTHING FOR THEM. And you've just made them cry or scared them or whatever.

Parenting is hard. Loving is hard.

I'm so sorry you're not alive for me to tell you all of this. I know you did the best you could and you know what, it was pretty damn great. I have some awesome memories because of you and with you. I love you dearly dad. I miss you. I'm raising these girls with many of the values you imparted in me. Thank you for being my dad and for loving me the way you knew how.