My sweet giant may have been smaller than me ...

Spent a snowy afternoon with Mr. Don watching "Big Fish" (again) for the first time in years.
It's such a lovely, lovely movie.  Fabulous cast, cinematography, writing, etc.
I have to say, this time around, I was much more affected by the film.  The father in Big Fish is dying.  His stories to his son are big, bold, and questioned by his son.
I've been there.
I never had the chance to ask my Dad questions that I had held close to my heart.  I never knew the extent of "his world."  The extent became apparent after his passing.
My father was that "big fish."
A big fish in a small pond  has quite a bit to protect and uphold.
I, simply, wish that I had been privy to a bit of that.
Hell, I wish I'd been privy to A HELL OF A LOT of that,  considering the standards to which I was held my entire life and my overly earnest relationship with my dad.
Lesson learned.
I know my father better than most.
I know my father would have spoken the truth to me if he knew he could fix it.
He couldn't.
I don't hold that against him.
Just wish we could have had one last heart to heart chat where I could look him in the eyes ... where he could share his worries ... where I could have helped console AND council him ... and where I could give him a smack ... and then, a huge hug.
xoxo
Anna