Three Years Gone
In three years there is a lot you have missed. You've missed so much. Every time I think about all the things you've missed in my son's life, I weep. He's an amazing boy. He's so intelligent, funny, sassy, sometimes impudent, sometimes kind. He has conversations now. He still knows who you are, but he'll never really know you. At your burial, I felt like I didn't even know you. Those people who spoke on your behalf spoke of a man I don't think I ever met. It made me jealous of them and angry at you.
These past three years of not being in his life weren't of your choosing. The first three, however, were. During those three years, I cried a lot, too. More at first. When I was told you were sick, I didn't cry at all. I felt that I had given as much as I could as your daughter. I debated whether or not to even honor your wish that I should call you. If I was more like you, I would not have. You can thank my other parents for that. They were proud of me. They didn't have to be. I couldn't sink to that level if I tried. It's really not in my character.
I cry today. It hurts me that the opportunity for you to enjoy my child is no longer. It still hurts that you couldn't have been the Dad I wanted you to be. People asked me in the time that you were fighting the cancer if I planned on clearing things up with you. Do you know what I told them? I told them, "No." Do you know why? I didn't, because I knew you. I knew nothing would change. I know that if nothing changes, nothing changes. You were very stubborn.
It tears me up every time I think about it. I think of all the shitty things you did. I think of how much I hurt. I know I probably could have handled it better, but you were supposed to be the adult. You weren't.
The saddest part of it all is that I truly believe you were unaware of any of it. I really believe that you were oblivious.
These past three years of not being in his life weren't of your choosing. The first three, however, were. During those three years, I cried a lot, too. More at first. When I was told you were sick, I didn't cry at all. I felt that I had given as much as I could as your daughter. I debated whether or not to even honor your wish that I should call you. If I was more like you, I would not have. You can thank my other parents for that. They were proud of me. They didn't have to be. I couldn't sink to that level if I tried. It's really not in my character.
I cry today. It hurts me that the opportunity for you to enjoy my child is no longer. It still hurts that you couldn't have been the Dad I wanted you to be. People asked me in the time that you were fighting the cancer if I planned on clearing things up with you. Do you know what I told them? I told them, "No." Do you know why? I didn't, because I knew you. I knew nothing would change. I know that if nothing changes, nothing changes. You were very stubborn.
It tears me up every time I think about it. I think of all the shitty things you did. I think of how much I hurt. I know I probably could have handled it better, but you were supposed to be the adult. You weren't.
The saddest part of it all is that I truly believe you were unaware of any of it. I really believe that you were oblivious.
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