What I learned...

So today, I "learned" some things.
I say "learned" because I am certain I already knew them at one point or another, but every so often, we need to re-learn, and be reminded of the things that really make a difference. I keep thinking about whether or not I'm going to say something here, but I guess I've been trying to...be a little different, a little more open here than what I was. Non sum qualis eram, I guess?

So today I saw the things people learned from their fathers on Twitter, of all places. 

And at first it made me pretty sad.  But there were lots of things going on today, lots of family was around, and we were exhausted from a full weekend that was for the most part full of love and happiness.

And tonight, I was alone. It wasn't exactly the plan, but I do tend to like to have some time alone to sort things out when they're hard.  So it wasn't all bad, though some of it was. 

I was driving home from the grocery store, trying to beat a storm when I thought about it again.

Things I've Learned From My Father.

I *do* have something to say here. Because just like teaching doesn't have to happen in a classroom or come from a teacher...just because he's gone does not mean I didn't learn things from him, through his writings, through the things I know about him, from the experiences people I love had with him. Pretty important things. 

So here it is. Here's my list. 

My father taught me to dream, because he dreamed first, and he dreamed big, from business ideas to houses he would build in the mountains some day. 

My father taught me to start making those things happen even if they seem impossible, because even though he never got to build that house, the plans are all there. I could build that house someday, because he didn't just sit on the dream, he took steps to make it a reality.

My father taught me to love the mountains and nature, because of the way he loved them, and because of the way he wrote about them, so much so that when I finally got out and experienced them, I felt like I was home again, and like I knew him better just for being out there.  And I fell in love then and there too.

My father taught me the beauty of writing. Because words are all I have of his...the ones he wrote, most of all, but the ones he said to others and others say about him. , but I do have words, and there can be such power in them. He wrote beautifully and wholeheartedly, and that's always my goal when I write. 

My father taught me to have a big heart. Because I have heard stories of his generosity, his love of people to even his own detriment and his kindness. 

And finally? And most importantly. My father taught me what love should be. Because he left me with a gift he didn't even know would be so necessary-a way for me to never be able to lose sight of his love for me.  I don't think I even realized its power until years later. 

Because I have a special way of knowing I'm loved that no one can come close to. And when I really get to thinking about that, it makes me feel amazing. It makes me feel hope, because that kind of love is out there, because it can last beyond even a person's life. It makes me aspire to that sort of love. It helps me remember not to settle for something less than that. 

So maybe it's not the way I wanted to learn these things.

But what's more important is that I know these things, and it's because of him.