My father has been diagnosed with lung cancer. Heavy smoker. Meth addict. Never around. Alcoholic. His name isn’t even on my birth certificate. Emotionally unstable.
I haven’t seen him in 3-6 years. I give such a wide gap because I can’t remember if I ever saw him during my Texas years.
I don’t hate him. I feel indifferent towards him. He wasn’t around in my life until I was 17 and by then I was over my “daddy wasn’t there issues” and had stopped caring. I don’t even know what it is to have a fatherly character in my life. That can of worms has never been opened.
So how do I feel?
Confused mostly. Confusion and a shamefully dull pain. It should hurt more. He’s my father. Or merely a sperm donor? I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s confusion wrapped in a sorrowful shroud of what should have been. He should have been clean. He should have been the sensitive cowboy father. He won’t see his grandchildren. THAT hurts.