i was walking with a ghost.
So you know when you reach that point in your life when you've just got to let go of all that baggage weighing you down and stop hating someone for something they did in the past?
I think I'm there.
My dad wasn't a good father. Far from it. He was hardly around when I was growing up, but I guess I should consider that a blessing. When he was there, he wasn't a nice guy, really. A part of me has always felt horrible because I think my dad felt guilty for being away so much since I was born, that he was always nicer to me than my brother and sister. He treated them like shit. But not me. I still remember this one time when I did really well in school, I mean, it was only elementary school, but he was so proud of me, he gave me a card with money in it. Money has always been his way of kicking dirt over the real problems, but I still remember the message he wrote me in that card and how happy it made me feel. For the longest time, even after I had witnessed all the fighting and the cheating and the horrible shit he did to my mom, I couldn't grasp why everyone else hated him. And then I started to see it, and I hated him, too.
But I will still always remember him staying up till 6 in the morning with me, Jason, and Marsha to play Mario Kart 64 with us. And it was some of the happiest memories of my childhood. My dad wasn't a good guy, but I know now he just didn't know any better. You act out what you know, and it's too bad his parents were just like him. He became his father and committed the same crimes against his wife that his dad did to his mom. It's unforgiveable what he did to my mom, and I hate that she doesn't know that she deserves more than that. But it's not my battle to fight. And it's not my hate.
My dad gave me $60 this weekend. When he's supposed to saving up for a new pair of glasses. And I have always been aware that him simply giving us money will not make up for his absence, but I recognize the peace offering. He didn't consciously give it to me, hoping I'd forgive him. He gave it to me because he didn't want me going hungry at school. He wanted to help me. Money won't buy a child's love, and maybe he won't ever fully grasp that, but I understand that at least he wants my love.
So yeah. We're gonna be okay, eventually.
I think I'm there.
My dad wasn't a good father. Far from it. He was hardly around when I was growing up, but I guess I should consider that a blessing. When he was there, he wasn't a nice guy, really. A part of me has always felt horrible because I think my dad felt guilty for being away so much since I was born, that he was always nicer to me than my brother and sister. He treated them like shit. But not me. I still remember this one time when I did really well in school, I mean, it was only elementary school, but he was so proud of me, he gave me a card with money in it. Money has always been his way of kicking dirt over the real problems, but I still remember the message he wrote me in that card and how happy it made me feel. For the longest time, even after I had witnessed all the fighting and the cheating and the horrible shit he did to my mom, I couldn't grasp why everyone else hated him. And then I started to see it, and I hated him, too.
But I will still always remember him staying up till 6 in the morning with me, Jason, and Marsha to play Mario Kart 64 with us. And it was some of the happiest memories of my childhood. My dad wasn't a good guy, but I know now he just didn't know any better. You act out what you know, and it's too bad his parents were just like him. He became his father and committed the same crimes against his wife that his dad did to his mom. It's unforgiveable what he did to my mom, and I hate that she doesn't know that she deserves more than that. But it's not my battle to fight. And it's not my hate.
My dad gave me $60 this weekend. When he's supposed to saving up for a new pair of glasses. And I have always been aware that him simply giving us money will not make up for his absence, but I recognize the peace offering. He didn't consciously give it to me, hoping I'd forgive him. He gave it to me because he didn't want me going hungry at school. He wanted to help me. Money won't buy a child's love, and maybe he won't ever fully grasp that, but I understand that at least he wants my love.
So yeah. We're gonna be okay, eventually.