You've been gone for about four years now. Well, not physically gone. But gone from my life. Gone long enough that you will not be walking me down the aisle. Long enough that you will never learn the names your future grandkids. Long enough that I call someone else "dad" because I no longer feel you deserve the title.
I watched an episode of Intervention last night that reminded me of you. A son had not seen his father in over 15 years due to his father's drug addiction. And although you are no longer living that lifestyle (I pray), I could identify with this young man. I saw the pain in his eyes when he confronted his father. I felt that feeling of being abandoned, of not being loved, of him not being there. Is that how we're going to be? Have you officially ex-communicated me? It feels as though you have.
When I went back home to visit, we looked through countless photo albums. Ones that were old enough to have pictures of you in them. As I turned each page I realized how mysterious you are. Everyone else had their emotions displayed on their faces, yet yours remained blank. I never knew what was going on in that head of yours, I always wondered. Wondered what was behind those blue eyes and mustache. There's a lot more going on on the inside than you let people know about. This pains me. Pains me because no one knows the whole story about me, and the same seems to hold true for you. It pains me because we're both trapped without one another, feeling alone.
I'll close by saying this: I'm someone who will trust right off the bat. But once you betray me, you're screwed. You're never getting my trust back no matter what you do. The most fucked up part about this whole situation? I would take you back in a second. And I hate myself for that. If you were anyone else, heh, buh-bye. See ya 'round. What does that say about your daughter?
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