I Hurt My Father & It Changed My Life

My father is terrible with words. He is not the type to give me a pep talk or any epic words of wisdom. In fact, he usually is hesitant to give me his opinion on anything because he doesn’t want to sway me to make a decision – he wants me to choose for myself.

When I was very young (maybe 9 or 10), my father took me to his little house in upstate New York and I was playing with his dog, Romeo, who was tied up to a tree. After recently getting serious back surgery, my father was just kicking back relaxing and enjoying a nice weekend.

Next thing you know, a tremendous crack of thunder shook the ground and a huge downpour led to a scary storm. I ran inside and demanded that my father bring Romeo in the house and he refused. So I ran outside and hid behind the tree that Romeo was tied to during the storm.

How I Hurt My Father

My father ran after me and slipped on the stairs. All that I remember is turning behind me and seeing him on the floor with his hand on his lower back. He eventually got up and we both went inside and dried off. He didn’t yell at me. He didn’t scold me. He didn’t talk to me. My father very rarely came to a school play, a basketball game, or an awards ceremony. Yet, the second I find myself in any sort of storm, he was always there running right after me – regardless of the danger I was putting us in. I’ll never forget that day. Our relationship took a dramatic shift after that storm and it made me learn to observe actions rather than always just listening for words.

On that note, I know my father will never read this post or any post I’ve ever written or will write. Either way, I hope he has a Happy Father’s Day and I look forward to telling him this memory of mine and how much it meant to me. I challenge you to do the same for your father.

If you are a father, then perhaps you should share a story with your kin. They’re more interested in you than you’d ever believe. You are their hero and they would love to hear about yours.