Truth in "Those Winter Sundays"

I felt that “Those Winter Sundays” was an absolutely beautiful poem that spoke truth to me. My own dad, who even considers himself something of an ass, was one who exhibited “the chronic angers of that house.” While I was growing up that was how I viewed him. He would get angry for no real reason, and then there would be hell to pay, but such is life. What I failed to notice but have since seen, were the things that he did. He got up on the cold winter mornings, despite having five sons, despite having severe back and neck injuries, despite being the sole bread-winner for our family, he would go out into the “blue-back cold” and shovel the driveway, then he would go and work all day, and still he would come home and shovel again. He sacrificed everything that he would rather do, only so that he could do what we should have been doing. That was the kind of man my dad was and is. I am only ashamed that it took me so long to see it. So I treated him with indifference or worse. Because I did not understand all that he did.