Growing up I was never super close to my dad. Not that he was a bad dad or a bad guy. We are just different people – from a faith standpoint and from a personality standpoint. Not bad– just different. I don't hold any grudges, but I can tell my dad often feels bad about it. He'll say things like - "you are so much more involved in your kids' lives than I ever was." Looking back, I can see my dad always loved me.
I remember I went through this phase in high school where I didn't want my dad to come to my soccer games. I'm not sure why? I probably figured he didn't want to be there. I'll never forget one game in particular when I scored a goal to help our team win. It was an exhilarating feeling, but tempered when I looked into the stands and saw no familiar faces. Even though I said I didn't want my dad there, inside I really did.
After the game, I met my dad in the parking lot and got in the car. I excitedly told him what happened in the game and he smiled and replied, "I know…I saw it." He sat and watched the game from his car in the parking lot, so I didn't know he was there. Even when I said I didn't want him there, he was there for me. Maybe he wanted to be there for himself…or maybe he intuitively knew I needed him there.