Slayer36, you're absolutely right. However, in my current situation even my dad doesn't encourage me to quit. He still smokes and living with somebody who smokes while you're trying to quit it nearly impossible. I was ready to give it a go, but my dad told me he thought it was a bit early for that, and that I might be setting myself up for failure.
Trust me though, I'll be ditching the cigs and buying a vaporizer post-mortem.
I don't believe in an after life, however my dad is the one who first showed me how to lift weights, and he will live on in my life in that way. The gifts he gave me by inducting me into the order of iron are countless. And he will live on in my training, in competition. Every PR I set owes something to that man. I'd also like to hope that I myself have, and will continue to pass on that gift. To take some time aside to lay things out for a newcomer, to show a skinny kid with no self esteem what he can do with himself, or a chubby kid that he too can excel at athletics if he is determined (determination, one of the many gifts that training with weights has brought to bear). Lastly, my lifting is about more than just me now. It's not just about the dream I have, to be the greatest powerlifter in history, or the fleeting, shadowy glory that goes with it anymore. It's also about my dad. Being the best will be a testament to him as well.
One last thing, before I end this long and overly emotional post. As an adolescent I hated my dad, we butted heads regularly, and I despised him for the way he treated my mother. Once I moved out of the house, I got to see how the real world works a little bit more, and that got me to thinking about my dad. My dad raised me by himself from the time I was 7. My mom's always been there for me, but it was my father who busted his ass at the office not only to feed me and clothe me, but also simply to buy me the toys that I really wanted etc. Suddenly, at 20, I realized my dad wasn't the monster my mom made him out to be. I for the first time saw my parents as people. My dad was a man. A man who'd worked hard to raise a son by himself, and give that son not only what he needed, but often what he wanted as well. I took the time then to sit him down and tell him how much I appreciated what he'd done for me over the years, and how I could appreciate what it must have felt like to be 37, and alone with a child and a shitload of debt. I'm really glad I had that talk with him before he got sick, so he knew for sure that those were my true feelings, not a guilt/impending death induced jumble of emotion. My point being, you teenagers who are reading this, if you don't get along with your dad, that's fine. Some of you have assholes for parents, but most of you aren't putting things in perspective. Imagine yourself in your fathers shoes, and if you feel what I felt then, tell him. My dad and I aren't real big on "sharing" our feelings, but some shit just has to be said. If you think about it, and despite the bullshit, despite the hormonal desire to kill him etc., your dad is a good man, you go tell him so goddamnit!
