Father

It's so late to talk about my dad, now that he's passed away about five years ago, but yesterday, it kind of hit me that he's no longer around. I elaborated on my relationship with my dad so many times in my head, and I discovered that I made an angel out of him when all he was is a human being, with faults and virtues. It struck me that I kept saying, if you're still alive dad this and this wouldn't have happened, if you lived dad I'd tell you so and so. I don't know for a fact if this would be true, if I'd be able now to talk candidly with him and consult him, maybe instead the gap would've grown wider and deeper between us. To be honest, I think that if he would've told me something I would do the opposite just to tease him. The truth of the matter is I was a rebellion and was never pacified by the words of the people around me, specially my dad, so ever since I was 13, he couldn't force me to do things all the time, mostly I did what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. We had our huge differences and fights, we spent so many days not even talking to each other, whether it was my fault or his. I even defied him and planned to go to any faculty except medicine because he me to study medicine. That's the pro and con of growing up, you have your own mind and you can revel in the state of illusive independence, and this eventualy form who you grow up to be in the future. But you'll hate authority, and you'll clash with anyone who assumes authority over you, which is mostly the father, so you have to fight with him if you're a rebellion by nature. He was in his youth as I was in mine, so we're so alike, maybe that was the reason we fought a lot.
Anyway, I got carried away in the memories, but what triggered these thoughts was that I made a perfect figure of him, all because he's dead now, and I can see clearly all the good things I loved in him and none of the things that irritated me. It's as if death creates a state of "denial", which is ironic considering death is the only absolute fact in life. I deny that he was ever "not good", and keep a holy image of him that would've never been there if he was alive. Maybe this was for good, because this way I get to know him better and love him better without being harsh or defiant. Yet sometimes I think, maybe I would've come to the same conclusion with time because this is a part of "growing up" and maturing, you get to realize the vanity of youth and how it's so silly, and you learn to appreciate the wisdom of your parents and teachers, even imitate it. I really miss the intellectual part of my dad, I want to have those evenings back when we used to talk about the philosophy in the books he taught, about life lessons, and I wish that I didn't let him down. I wish he could know this, that I cherish him now even though I was so stupid before, that I love him now in spite of everything. I wish he could forgive me for everything, but moreover, I wish I can forgive myself.