A Year-Old Post

I was going through my journal today, the one that I took with me to the hospital the week my dad died, to find a poem I wanted to share with you all. I FINALLY have internet access at home again, so I can talk about my dad without worrying about people thinking I'm nuts if I cry. (Like they would if I posted on my lunch at work.)

Anyway, as I was turning the pages, I found a BLOG POST I had written out for you all. I think I wrote it when my dad was first put into the hospital.

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"I wonder today, about how truly wierd life is. I post on my blog about abuse, and a week later, my abuser is hospitalized. I wonder...

Do you wonder how I feel?

If so, don't worry, I asked myself the same thing. How DO I feel about my dad?

CONFLICTED!

I LOVE him so much! I long for him to love me, to be proud of me.

I FEAR him. His words have cut like knives, with no warning and no remorse.

I DISTRUST him. He lies, he fakes, and his moods change constantly.

I JEALOUSLY GUARD HIM. He is MY DADDY and no one can be loved more than I am. (This feeling wierds me out.)

I DISTANCE myself from him emotionally. I hold my real self in a protective embrace, and hide it deep inside.

I BEG FOR MORE TIME. He can't die now! We have unfinished business. I'm afraid he'll die without ever really knowing me.

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It's interesting how things played out in the end. My dad DID die then... but the unfinished business was mostly finished first. While he was in the hospital after the first & second strokes, I read to him (The Bible and Hamlet), sang to him, chatted with him... and I know he heard me then. I told him some things that I hadn't told him before... chatted about memories I had... by the time I left the hospital, I felt like he knew me better than he had before. And from all the time I sat beside him... I felt closer to him too. It was very strange.