Some days I wake up and the pain of missing my father is so great, I wish I could die so I could see him again.
But then I feel guilty. I know how many people and animals depend on me. I also know my father would want me to live a long life and would hate knowing I felt that way.
Itβs so hard though. So much of the pain I went through as a child was the direct result of his addiction to alcohol. My abusive stepmother was a consequence of that. My abusive step siblings- another consequence. Thereβs so much resentment in me for all the relapses I dealt with, for the times I had to be a caretaker to him when it was just the two of us again.
But even still. I loved him more than anything in this world. He could have passed me off to my hyper religious conservative relatives when my mother died. But he didnβt, he tried his best, I never went without even when he was on a bender.
I held so much anger inside me though, even after he got sober. I never really got to let it go, to tell him I forgave him for everything. To let him know I would endure it all again if it meant having him as my father. And now Iβll never get that chance and it hurts so fucking much.
The last time I saw him he was so out of it and I didnβt even get to have a proper conversation with him. He looked so lost and he was seeing things I couldnβt see. When I left, he tried to follow me but I told him to lay back down and Iβd see him tomorrow. I didnβt even get the chance to give him a hug. I canβt even remember the last hug we shared and it kills me.
You always think you have more time. Even if itβs just a few hours or a few days. You always think there will be more. Until there isnβt. And youβre left with too many regrets and too much pain with no place for it to go but to settle into your bones like a cancer.
Itβs been over half a year. Closer to eight months. Time hasnβt made it any easier. If anything, it just gets worse.
