I had a rough time with my dad growing up. He was distant, I was gnarly. He lost his shit easily, and I knew how to push him to it. My mom did most of the dad things -- she taught me how to ride a bike, how to throw a baseball -- while my dad worked long hours.

He didn't seem interested in being a dad, at least to a wise ass like me. He drank a good bit and always seemed tired. I learned later he had a problem with valium. In our family we didn't say I love you. We didn't hug. We were like four spinning tops bumping into each other.

But later in life, after I'd become a father myself, he tried to make amends. He wanted to become the dad he hadn't been before. He went to therapy. He called me all the time, and he wanted to be a grandpa. Now it was my turn to push him away, and I did. I didn't buy it.

I didn't believe he was sincere. He tried, but I was tied up in my own shit. He struggled with booze on and off his whole life, and when my brother and I drove him out to Betty Ford, I was high as fuck on coke. A year later, he was visiting me in rehab.

After we both got clean, we finally were able to accept each other for who we were -- a massive achievement -- and we started spending time together because we both wanted to.
He died suddenly a couple years later when he was only 69, and every Father's Day that goes by,

I remind myself how lucky I am because I was able to get over myself and get past all the bullshit before he left. We loved each other, and we said it. We even hugged each other a few times. I wish I had more time with him, but I don't have any regrets.

If you have a rough time with your dad and he's still around, it's not too late to do something about it. And you'll be glad you did.