THE SINCEREST FORM
Kids grow up imitating their parents, wanting to be just like their parents, until the day they decide their parents aren't cool and want nothing to do with them. Then they get older and their parents don't seem so bad, and as they settle into who they really are, they achieve some kind of comfort level with the ways they resemble their parents.
My process with that got interrupted, so I've spent my whole life trying to find a substitute kind of emotional connectedness and level of comfort with my father. A complete identification is never going to happen. But I try, in my hundreds of little ways, to pay homage to the man by acknowledging the things we share.
These imitations haven't all been great decisions, mind you. But do you dare tell me that my heart wasn't in the right place?
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