Only One Way to Survive – The Ultimate Guide to the Perfect Family

Last updated on: August 6, 2018 at 10:54 am by Eduardo Quintana

Only One Way to Survive – The Ultimate Guide to the Perfect Family 2018-08-06T10:54:58-05:00 Eduardo Quintana

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father’s just the best. He’s funny, kind, and always finds the time to be where you need him. I wish my father was more like that.”

For one of the first times in my life, I couldn’t talk. Her words confused me. “What do you mean?” I asked her.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? Your father’s wonderful. I remember when we were kids, and I’d sleep over at your house. He’d always come into your room, sit down in the chair between the twin beds, and read us a book. I’m not sure my father can even read,” she sighed, and then smiled. “Thanks for sharing him.”

Speechless

Then, Jane ran off to dance with her boyfriend. I stood there in silence. A few minutes later, Paul came to stand beside me. “He’s sure having a lot of fun.” “What? Who? Who’s having a lot of fun?” I asked.

“Your father. He’s having a ball.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I didn’t know what else to say. “You know, he’s always been there,” Paul said. “I remember when you and I were on the mixed doubles soccer team. He tried out as the coach, but he couldn’t run up and down the field, remember? So they picked Jackie’s father instead. That didn’t stop him. He showed up for every game and did whatever needed to be done. He was the team’s biggest fan. I think he’s the reason we won so many games. Without him, it just would have been Jackie’s father running up and down the field yelling at us. Your father made it fun. I wish my father had been able to show up to at least one of our games. He was always too busy.”

A Change in Me

Paul’s girlfriend came out of the restroom, and he went to her side, leaving me once again speechless.

My boyfriend came back with two glasses of punch and hande me one. “Well, what do YOU think of my father?” I asked out of the blue.

Terry looked surprised, “I like him. I always have.”

“Then why did you call him names when we were kids?”

“I don’t know. Because he was different, and I was dumb kid.”

“When did you stop calling him names?” I asked, trying to search my own memory.

Terry didn’t even have to think about the answer. “The day he sat down with me outside by the pool and held me while I cried about my mother and father’s divorce. No one else would let me talk about it. I was hurting inside, and he could feel it. He cried with me that day. I thought you knew.”

I looked at Terry and a tear rolled down my cheek as long-forgotten memories started cascading into my consciousness.

Memories

When I was three, my puppy got killed by another dog, and my father was there to hold me and teach me what happens when the pets we love die. When I was five, my father took me to my first

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