Thirty-five years is a long time but that’s exactly how many years that Dad’s been gone as of today. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and it’s not anything I wish upon any child.
But in his absence, I’ve learned to no longer cry (as much) over his passing. Sure, it will be sad as it usually is but there’s only so many times I can cry before realizing that he’s gone, an alcohol abuser but more of a victim of his surroundings, and there’s nothing that will ever bring him back.
I prefer to cherish those few memories I have of him and keep them with me as long as I live, and to be around as long as I can so that Anthony and I can grow old and experience the many great and wonderful things that Dad missed out on doing with me.
Dad, you’re missed even though I know you’re still around. I hope I’ve made you proud.