And in other news...
Bea Arthur and my goldfish Apollo both died the day after I found out all my father's cancer is in remission except this nasty lil brain tumor he's developed.
Yes my father finally contacted me.
It's a weird feeling when you're pretty sure you've had the last conversation with your father that you'll ever have.
He thought the email I sent him was because I was mad that he didn't vote for Obama.
And he didn't even read the whole thing.
He read down to the part where I told him I hadn't used the name he cursed me with at birth and got pissed and deleted it.
So we decide that most likely we don't have enough time to work through all of our problems and just accept each other as we are...
After which he proceeds to launch right back into the whole "The only sin god can't forgive is you not believing in his son jesus christ, our lord and savior, and accepting him as your savior and, no matter how gay you are, all you have to do is repent and your sins will be forgiven and you'll be accepted into heaven..." thing...
Which, of course pissed me off and made me start going off on him again and letting him know that this is precisely what I can't stand about christians and why I'll never be one. I told him that I am a good person, I was born this way, I KNOW I was born this way and I am NOT sinning so I have nothing to repent for there...
And that's the point where I bit my lip, told him I loved him and that we needed to hang up and end the conversation on good terms.
He asked that I email him my address and stuff in case he ever wanted to send me anything...
I lied and told him I would.
I no longer feel any need to have any further contact with him.
I've made my peace with the fact that he is who he is, I've never been able to please him and I never will and trying to do so will only result in the equivalent of me opening my eyes and looking just a little deeper into the mouth of madness than I ever have.
He's my father. I love him even though he'll never completely love me.
And I have no desire to ever speak to him again.
Not out of anger, mind you.
I just feel like after nearly thirty years of life I've finally said everything to him that I need to.
So, as far as I'm concerned, that chapter of the book of me is officially ended.
We shall see.
Yes my father finally contacted me.
It's a weird feeling when you're pretty sure you've had the last conversation with your father that you'll ever have.
He thought the email I sent him was because I was mad that he didn't vote for Obama.
And he didn't even read the whole thing.
He read down to the part where I told him I hadn't used the name he cursed me with at birth and got pissed and deleted it.
So we decide that most likely we don't have enough time to work through all of our problems and just accept each other as we are...
After which he proceeds to launch right back into the whole "The only sin god can't forgive is you not believing in his son jesus christ, our lord and savior, and accepting him as your savior and, no matter how gay you are, all you have to do is repent and your sins will be forgiven and you'll be accepted into heaven..." thing...
Which, of course pissed me off and made me start going off on him again and letting him know that this is precisely what I can't stand about christians and why I'll never be one. I told him that I am a good person, I was born this way, I KNOW I was born this way and I am NOT sinning so I have nothing to repent for there...
And that's the point where I bit my lip, told him I loved him and that we needed to hang up and end the conversation on good terms.
He asked that I email him my address and stuff in case he ever wanted to send me anything...
I lied and told him I would.
I no longer feel any need to have any further contact with him.
I've made my peace with the fact that he is who he is, I've never been able to please him and I never will and trying to do so will only result in the equivalent of me opening my eyes and looking just a little deeper into the mouth of madness than I ever have.
He's my father. I love him even though he'll never completely love me.
And I have no desire to ever speak to him again.
Not out of anger, mind you.
I just feel like after nearly thirty years of life I've finally said everything to him that I need to.
So, as far as I'm concerned, that chapter of the book of me is officially ended.
We shall see.