On Tuesday, it will be six years since his last words to me were "You're Crying, CALL YOUR MOTHER!" right before he slammed the phone down on me. I was trying to tell him that I loved him, and he was telling me he was not sorry for what he did. That one call I felt (at the time) was going to define the rest of my life. I believed it so much that I got so lost in alcohol and depression.
Then a little blonde boy who I believed was a nefarious specter reconnected me to another blonde boy. The one everyone thought haunted my house. He wasn't haunting us...he needed his doppelganger to know...kiddo, in the end? You are going to tell a very special story, and when you do? We all make it. I realized that my relationship with my father was going to kill me if I never had the opportunity to talk about it, ask others if they had similar experiences, but more importantly? Everyone deserves to know that their pain isn't weakness or should it be something someone exploits. Its you, pain cultivates but it doesn't define. I am reaching a point now where its a tale of two tunnels....
The one my father left me to climb out of....
and the one my son can't wait to slide down from.
I feel at peace knowing that I said what I had to say and that anyone is willing to read it. I am afraid, but god forbid...if you're reading it? I feel saved. I feel SO MUCH peace...knowing that this book is finished.
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September 2021
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