When your ashes we’re scattered into the sea I remember the feeling of elation I had. It wasn’t because of you were dead, but because I knew the struggle was gone. The struggle to be good enough, the struggle to wish you to be the father I wanted you to be, the struggle to forgive. I wish I had you back in my life, but then I’d expect those things all over again.
I know where you came from. I know your background. I know you did the best you could. And that all made me sad for you as you denied yourself to feel the pain and hurt that was buried inside to allow yourself to work through it. I guess it’s a generational thing.
Although my words may sound otherwise, I miss you.