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I am warning anyone reading this now, if you don't care, stop reading. If you plan to ridicule me, stop reading. If you plan to continuously bug me with questions proceeding, stop reading. This journal was made to stop questions. If questions are asked, I will punch you in your respective gender's baby maker.

This entry is for the head runner of the "******** my life, this is horrible" contest. The one thing that has constantly ******** my life over for my oh-so-influential 16 years on this planet. This entry is dedicated to my father, who has been ill for the past 6 years and will soon pass away.

The best way I can describe the feelings about my father's illness, is that its almost like that feeling when something is on the tip of your tongue. That you know it, its almost there, just one more step and you've got it, but you just can't get to it. He's going to die soon. I've known this for a while now. But it hasn't happened yet. So I'm stuck in the grieving process. I can see it. I can feel it. But I can't leave it... I'm so close to acceptance, hell, i have accepted the fact that my dad will die sooner than I'd like. But I can't let go, no matter how much I'd like to...

Because he's still here.

I know how insensitive that sounds. It sounds insensitive to me. But I do love my dad... of course he drives me insane sometimes like every other teenager, but I do love him. And I will miss him. Is he the most important person in my life? No, he's not. But he's my father. I've woken up every morning for the past sixteen years, knowing that my dad will be in the other room, or will be coming home from work that night. And over this past year I've had glimpses of what it will be like when... I don't have that anymore. And I missed it then, and I'll miss it in the future. He has a great sense of humor and is surprisingly tolerant about just the little things in life... like forgetting to pick up my room or driving on the sidewalk for a quarter of a mile home when I first got my license. And the first time I got in a fight, he wasn't mad. I came home crying and he cracked a joke about how I had gotten my first shiner.

But its not even missing the things I remember that hurts the most, its the things that have yet to become memories.

My high school graduation, my wedding day, the birth of my children... my children having a grandfather. All these things I want to see so desperately, but I know won't happen...

But I am grateful for the things I do have, I suppose.




Now before anyone comments, I want you to think about the set of balls I had to grow to post this. Don't make me regret it.