yes. i know. i promised i would bring up the walking dead tv series a little less.
but this isn’t about the actual show so bear with me here…
because you see, it is about my father. or to be more specific, my relationship with my father.
to back track a bit, i have not always had the best relationship with my father. he isn’t a man of many words. his temper was always quick and i would say he was usually yelling rather than talking. and so i grew up more afraid of my father than anything else.
don’t get me wrong, now that i’m older, and while our relationship is far from perfect, i like my father. a lot. for the most part, he leaves me alone and i think that’s great. my mother, on the other hand… well, that’s another story.
after finishing all 3 seasons of walking dead on netfix, i urged my father to strongly give the series a chance.
his first reaction was not too far from mine, “what? zombies??? come on. they’re silly.”
okay, i never felt zombies were silly. as some readers might have recalled, i was completely terrified of them. point being, zombies have never been mine nor my father’s thing. we had similar reservations about the walking dead before watching it.
however, i urged him, “dad – i know what you mean. i felt exactly the same way but trust me, give the first season a try before you decide. it’s now my favourite show and i can’t stop watching it!”
so… he took my advice.
after a couple of days, i get an email, “just finished season 1 and am now starting season 2. i’m hooked.”
two weeks later, and he’s asking me if he can come over to catch up on the missed episodes of season 4 from our PVR.
i guess what i’m trying to say is that i have the walking dead to thank for – it’s brought my father and i closer together.
this is how we relate.