Priorites.

Before I start this post I would like to clarify a few things that not everyone may be aware of.

• The man I referred to in my last post is my dad. 
• That being said, the man I refer to in this post is my father. And should in no way be confused as the man earlier mentioned. 

With that being clarified I'd really like to talk about a subject that has always been extremely hard for me to discuss with anyone. I'm sure this post will probably stir up some controversy and make some people ask me why I would even consider posting this publicly, but I feel that getting it out will help me accept it. I've had the past 19, almost 20 years to come to terms with the fact that my biological father is a drug-addict, an unfortunate story that I know other people can relate to. 

He was around very little when I was a young child, and ultimately moved away before I even started school to try and better himself. My father has repeatedly chosen drugs over me, and has put a very heavy strain on your relationship. He has given me nothing out of life other than my brother and a wonderful step-mother. The absolute best thing that he could give me. It is a extremely heavy burden to know how my father is, when my brother has no idea. I wish I could protect him from the truth forever.. 

The main point of this post is just to clarify the fact that having a parent who is addicted to drugs isn't a joke. I strive to be nothing like my father in my life. And that being said, I have chosen not to follow some of the paths and choices my friends have made. My friends thinks its cool, to have a dad that smokes because he can share with them or supply it to them when they are around. But it's actually quite the opposite. It is a constant struggle, an everyday roller coaster. He can go days, even weeks without a phone call. And I go months and months without seeing him since he can't keep a lisence or save enough money for a car.

Living in the city that he does, I never know when I may get a phone call saying he's been killed in a drug-deal gone wrong, or an overdoes, or self-harm when he gets despressed. I never know when I talk to him if it will be the last time or not. I can remember being younger and always making excuses for him, or defending him when he dissapointed me. I don't do that anymore. My father is a grown man, making poor choices and he has got to live with them. 

I know this post makes me sound like I hate him, but I dont. He's still my father, and I love him. I really do. I wish that he was a different man, and could get control on his life, he's not one of the lucky ones that can overcome it. I know that my dad loves me, and I know that he tries but he has never been able to straighten out his priorities and I just hope someday before it's too late, he will. If not for me, for my brother. I've done all I could to show my dad that what he does with his life is hurting the people around him and ruining relationships. I've learned that he's not going to change just because I want him to, or beg him to. He's got to want it himself. I just thank God for the parents I did have growing up, without then I would be nowhere. And I'm tired of feeling like I should hide behind the fact of who my father is, or be ashamed. He is not me, I am not him.

"Any man can be a father, but it takes a real man to be a dad." 

Days with Dad

As far back as I can remember I've always been fasinated with what my dad did when he walked out the door every morning. I've always looked up to my dad, and not just because he's over six feet tall. He is hands down, the hardest worker that I know. He's up before the sun, and doesn't stop working until his head hits the pillow at night. 

I can remember as a kid, hating the fact that afterschool I'd have to walk through our entry way which always reeked of lobster bait. And it didnt really help that we had clam flatts in our back yard, that the warm summer breeze always loved to blow in our windows. 

It wasn't until this summer that I really got to see what my dad spent his days doing. Obviously, growing up here I knew what lobsterfishing was and everything that goes along with it. But it wasn't until now that I really got to see him at work. Granted he works as a sternman on a much bigger boat at the beginning of the day, but what I got to see was much different. 

After leaving the harbor once to go haul, he returns just to turn around and go back out in his skiff. What he does with the second part of the day is much more challenging. Out here in his skiff he doesn't have a hauler that brings all the traps in for you, he does them all by hand. Every single trap. It's very rare to see. And it downright amazes me.

I've spent a few days out here with him now, banding every lobster he pulls up. The first day was good. Decent catch. Nice weather. Second time, not so bad. Still nice weather. A little colder now as we are getting out of summer. Pitiful amount of lobsters. The last time I went, we caught a decent amount. I saw a lot of things that I hadn't seen before come up in the traps (even after growing up here and on the ocean my whole life.) And it's a good thing that there was something interesting to look at because the fog was so thick I could barely see my dad who was just on the front of the boat. I can remember asking him many times, (as I was pretty sure we were lost) "Do you always go out when its this foggy?" The answer pretty self-explanitory.. yes. If he didn't he probably would have a very limited amout of days to work. "And you consider this safe?" I was shocked. 

After being able to see first hand what he goes through, I really don't know how he does it. He's sure not the youngest man in town anymore. Honestly, there are some days that I could not picture myself anywhere else other than in the middle of the ocean with my dad. Unless it's foggys, that's kinda sketchy. I know 60 years from now, when I'm sitting back in my rocking chair, that those days spent out there, at peace with my number one man, those days will be the ones that make for some of the best memories.