I really like Sally's post today. Not that she was talking about diary entries, but the idea of remembering dead people for who they are. I don't like saint-ifying dead people either.
I guess this is why when I talk about my dad I usually follow the story with, "Man, he was a pain in my ass." Or why my brother, who was pretty much my dad's best friend, follows any story about my dad with "stubborn old man." If it's just the two of us he usually replaces "man" with "bastard."
But I do this knowing that if the roles were reversed, my dad would've followed any story about me with a comment about how I was the reason he was gray/balding. Or that I was overdramatic. Or, more appropriately, that I was a big pain in his ass, but that he loved me anyway.
Because I was. And so was he.
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