I hate him you know. I despise the way he treats me; my father the heart breaker. I hate that it took me five phone calls and 3 messages at least to get him to call me back. I hate that he didn't call me when my grandpa died, even though he knew. The death of his dad is what caused most of the alcoholic problems, so wouldn't he understand more than anyone how hard this is for everyone on my moms side of the family??? Wasn't it my grandpa that invited him and every one of his siblings over to the farm after his dad died? All I have wanted my entire life was to crawl up into my daddy's lap, like Montana is doing in the pictures I have of them. Instead I get tears so thick I can't see what I am typing clearly.
Everyone tells me that eventually I will have to forgive them, what they don't understand is that I have forgiven him. I could hate him so much more. I could hold him responsible for everything, except I don't. I don't blame him, or anyone for that matter. What happened happened, but that doesn't make it any less painful.
And besides, don't I deserve a morning period? Doesn't everyone deserve the feel sad and have a moment in time to pity themselves and reflect on how things could be…if only they were different? I think yes. And so every year, I usually feel like crap from October 2nd through January 1st. I guess it's no different than most people. You either love the holidays or you hate them, I just happen to hate and love them equally.
It is probably faire to say that I hate myself almost as much. Not because I caused him to leave or whatever, like I said before I don't blame anyone, but because instead of talking to someone about this, I bottle it up. I bottle it up and go through a box of Kleenex's a night practically trying to avoid any confrontation. No, I don't want people to know how truly week and pathetic I am, so when I am about to cry at school, I run to the bathroom or I bite my tongue. Leaving me, in the end, relying on my cats for comfort. Only how much comfort can a cat give? No more than an absent father I suppose.
I have so many questions running through my head about him. What color are his eyes? What's his middle name? Why doesn't he call? What did I do wrong? Because I had to have done something wrong, right? I mean, that's what I keep telling myself, because the other reason, that he doesn't call or write because he just doesn't care, is too hard to bear.
In the book After the Leaves Fall, there is a quote on page 73, "…you apologized for all the wrong things." Never before have I read a quote that pinpointed the exact emotion for me. When I do talk to my dad, he will say he is sorry for not calling or keeping in touch often enough, but it's never because he actually wants to change and repent, it's just simply to clear his conscious. Yet, every time I hear those words "I'm sorry," I am sure that he is serious this time. Sure that I will get to talk to him later on this week, like my stepdad does to his kids. Calls them all the time and they are adults now with families of their own. All but Amy, but she's 21, so she is almost on her own…
I know that it would be wrong to stay bitter for the rest of my life at him. But I am not going to lie to you all and say that I will eventually get over this all, because I can't actually promise that right now. I wish I new what I needed. Not just from him either, I don't know what I need in anything. It's like I am in this big drift. I'm lonely all the time and there doesn't seem to be a way to shake that feeling. When I read I feel better, but then the book is finished and I am left empty again. I suppose that statement up there was a little untrue. I do know what I need: God. Only I've come so far I don't know how to get him back I my life. I don't even know if I am away from him.
A part of me is angry at him. Not really angry, just confused. I don't understand how he works. Why would he take away a man so wonderful from the lives of people who need him the most just before the holidays? Why would he give someone a dad as crappy as mine? Not that I know if he is a crappy dad, because I don't know him at all. I have never questioned the things that I find myself pondering now before in my life. Which I guess is a good thing; I mean you have to know what you're missing to know that you need it right?
Having read through this the only thing I can think of now is that stupid Annie song, "It's a Hard Knock Life," or whatever. Pretty dumb of me to vent all of this in a blog. I just hope someone will read it and know what I should do…
Peace, Love, ME!
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