My dad died on December 29th. I knew it was coming. I’ve known for awhile. Yet through all the anger I’ve had toward him over the years, I’m still hurting. Hurt, sad, still angry, and just…sad. Yea, he did things he shouldn’t have. He wasn’t the best father or human being at times, but he was great toward some people. I didn’t get the best of him though, but right now I don’t care.
I love my Dad because he’s my dad. He had problems. A lot of the same mental problems I do. I chose to not have a relationship with him because I needed to protect my own children, and myself in some ways.
I’ve been crying. I’m still trying to look at the bright side. He isn’t suffering anymore. He isn’t being held hostage anymore to his mental illnesses.
I kept his hat and his shirt that he wore ALL the time. His hat fits me and I’ll most likely wear it a lot.
You hurt me, Dad, but I know you were hurting too. I love you. I’m glad you’re finally happy. Goodbye, Daddy, until it’s my turn. Then maybe I’ll give your hat back.