My dad? No, that's not him.

If you talk to anyone who knew/interacted with my dad, they will always tell you what a good man he was. And it's true. My dad was a very good and godly man. He did God's work 'til the day he died...literally. But although what he was doing was a good thing (giving Bible studies, doing visitations with church members, etc), he had 1 flaw: he put his family in third place. First place was the Lord, second was the people he was ministering to, and third was his family. It will be 6 years since his passing in August and within these past 6 years, I have heard countless stories of how my father touched the lives of many people. But when they would share their stories of my dad, it wouldn't really touch my heart in a way it should. For years I never knew why I didn't seem to care as much about my father's success stories and tonight, I realized why. It's because the person they would often describe to me was not the person I knew. The caring, reliable, God-fearing person they loved so much was not the person I got to see at the end of each day, if I was even lucky enough to see my father at the end of the day. The person I saw was busy putting hundreds or even thousands of Bible studies together, stressed about having to go to a Bible study every night of the week, tired from driving to and fro plus dropping me off for school, and sick because all of this was catching up to the 70+ year old man. If I'm being completely honest, sometimes I hate hearing stories of my dad and how he reached all these people because it is just another reminder of how many people took my father's time away from me. I never got the chance to know this man of whom they speak of. And I probably sound bitter and angry, but it's because I am. The man they all speak so highly of is supposed to be my dad. But why does it feel like I don't even know him?