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Daddy Issues Part 2

Early last week, I had vented to my mother about my sister's incessant guilt mongering. But her response was more of the same. She said she thinks it's sad that "Daddy" is dying and that we all need to work together to help out so that when his life ends we're all still around to grieve together without feeling any regret.

But the thing is, I've already grieved for my father.

I grieved during the years that he ignored me.
I grieved after they told us they were getting divorced.
I grieved after the divorce when my mom begged for help with her abusive boyfriend but found none from my father.

And after a while, after years of less and less interaction, I grieved for the relationship that I never had and would never have with this man. Or his parents. Or my cousins.

I even had to grieve after happy things like my mom's marriage to a nice man who had nice kids who looked and acted and achieved success the way my mom's family should. But I was never part of that picture. I belong with my dad's side of the family. The ones with dark eyes and meaningful memories. I followed their path without ever knowing it was laid out before me. Because I'm one of them. And that's just what we do. Except I never knew that so
I just always felt lost and alone.

I grieved for my own wedding when my father didn't tear up at the thought of losing his baby girl, but fought with me about music and slapped my ass in front of God, friends, and family at the end of the aisle that he talked me into letting him walk me down. Good game. I lose.

I grieved for my sister's unfaltering loyalty to the man. She was able to connect with him despite being one of my mother's people. She was rewarded with sarcasm and racist jokes and his time. And a well-adjusted outlook. And emotional health.

I grieved for my chance to settle these scores with my father the day I found out he had the type of brain cancer that's not operable because it's the burrowing kind that just keeps erasing body functions and memories. I'm never going to get my righteously angry speech.
Or an apology.
Or any kind of closure.

I'm all set on the grieving portion of this thing. And I won't be going through it twice just to satisfy what people I can't relate to think is the correct way to handle things. But my mom and sister can't understand such a harsh logic.

So when I had the chance to choose any shift I wanted at my workplace, I chose the one that would give me the biggest excuse. So no, sorry, I can't take him or pick him up or get groceries or medicine - I have to work. Sunday - Thursday 8-5. I'm not going to "come around" or change my mind.
I'm just going to go to work.
And no, I don't feel bad about it.
I don't feel anything.


You don't know me.

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