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I felt sorry for Ken. I was mad I felt this. But it took some time to figure this feeling out.
I felt sorry he missed loving us 5 kids. I felt sorry he couldn't love us, or didn't. I felt sorry
he missed out on so much. I felt sad, there was no more hope that he would change, he was dead, no more chances. It was over, and finally after some time I let go. He made his choices, sober choices and drunk ones. His sickness had nothing to do with me. His sister called me a couple of months after he died and said a letter from me to him was found in his wallet, that he took to the hospital. I wrote that letter 15 yrs. ago, and it was in his wallet???
I couldn't believe it. I remember it being a goodbye letter. Telling him that I had no room in my life for him. That all he did was hurt people and I wasn't going to be one of them anymore.
First I was angry..... That SOB carried that letter in his wallet for 15 yrs, while I'm thinking he doesn't give a crap? Then I went sad. How very sad, maybe he did care? Somewhere very deep inside,, maybe he did care. This was difficult to settle with in my self. What did it mean? It's too late to ask him. So after some time,, a lot of time, I decided it was his way of dealing with his guilt. He could never make it right, he never did. I waited for him to make it right, he was my dad.
My aunt game me the letter. It was folded many times, and opened it up and it fell apart in my lap, the print was so faded it was not readable. What did I say to make him keep it for so long? I cried myself to sleep that night and the next day I went on with my life.