I need to get some shit out of my brain.
Over the 23 years of my life so far my dad and I have had a very rocky relationship. But as I'd gotten older and we enjoyed being adults together, we became great friends. I would visit my dad pretty often and while I would voice my concern over his lifestyle choices, what really mattered was that he knew how much I loved and cared about him. And he did. And I know how much he loved and cared about me. It's not a secret to anyone that I was his favorite. (I'm getting a little inconsolable as I write this, so I apologize if it's not as grammmatically eloquent as you're used to.) I have absolutely no regrets about my relationship with him. Of course, I wish he had been a more prototypical Dad, and I wish he was healthy, and I feel a little guilty for whenever I felt ashamed of him, but I think every child feels that way about a parent often enough to induce guilt.
I had spoken with a few friends who had similar "dad-issues" about typical dad things. Do I want to introduce my boyfriends to him? Do I want him to walk me down the aisle if I get married? Would I ever let him be around my children should I have any? I was concerned that his drug habits would ruin my adult life, or the life that I hope to build for myself. But I had a choice. I probably would've chosen to include him, because that's the kind of daughter I've always been. Predominantly out of guilt and responsibility, which have always been strong driving factors in determining what I do and why. Now the choice has been taken away from me and that's scary. And sad. But also a tiny bit relieving? (I feel particularly guilty about that one.) Now that we (my brothers and I) are looking over his estate and figuring out how we're going to pay off all his debt and take care of all of his earthly possessions (which includes a lot of crap!) I feel overwhelmed, but I'm thankful that he didn't have years upon years to collect more junk. I stand to inherit two homes, a .38, a Harley, a bong, and should I decide to sell everything and take the money: roughly $150,000.00
None of which I want because it means I'll never get a hug from my dad again. I'll never answer the phone and hear him say, "hey, cute Meg!" I'll never see him do his ridiculous butt-wiggle dance that I affectionately call "the Rory shuffle." I'll never see him drum his big belly in the place of laughing. And these are things that I stand to forget as time progresses.
He may not have been a great man and there may have been times in which I didn't care for him, but I always, ALWAYS loved him. He loved me and I was the most important person in his life. I will miss him forever. I don't know if the hurt will ever go away.