Do I love my father?

I love my father.  

I know I do because when he makes any effort to be a part of my life I like the way I feel.  When he shows interest in something I've done, it makes me happy.

I shouldn't love him.   It would be easier if I didn't that's for sure.

Maybe that makes me a weak person, but I don't think so.  I think it's far easier to lump people in a basket that you label with tags labeled "like", "love", "dislike" or "hate".  

I wish I could figure out how to love and forget the past.  Actually that's not true, I tried that and when you get hurt by the same behavior you end up feeling stupid for being gullible.  So the reality is that I am working through how to love my father when I am still so hurt, angry and un-trusting.

A baby bear in the wild must trust it's mother unequivocally or it will perish.  I believe it is that way for us humans too.  You can see this when children are abused and mistreated.  They still cling to their parent and resent any other authority coming into the home to end the abuse.

So I love my father, because I'm hard-wired to do so.

But there is more.  There is a side of my father that is lovely.  He can be a wonderful human being and I see it.  I know his wife and other children see it too.  But those who know my story don't understand how I can see any good in him.

We are all complex creatures.  We all have a little bit of rotten in us and a whole lot of good.  I think good fortune allows most of us to demonstrate most of our good most of the time.   Even with so many disadvantages, I still have lived a sheltered life in the whole of humanity on earth and throughout history.   Who am I to judge?