Rage, it snuck up on me like a snake approaching its prey right before it completely consumes it. I knew this was my father sitting in front of me, for all eyes to see, but how much did he truly know me or how much did I know him? I know he contributed to half of my DNA, but after that at this moment I felt as if I knew nothing. Everyone was waiting for me to begin and the room was completely silent. I knew if I didn’t begin to speak at this moment I would never get my chance. I would run out and possibly never return to this hateful room filled with raw, intense emotions. As I spoke, the tears came, I knew they would. All around me I heard others begin to cry as they clung onto my words of hurt and pain. This pain I was describing it wasn’t only for me, but for my siblings too. When I began, there was no stopping me. For the first time in my entire life my father was forced to listen to me. I realized as I got up the nerve to look up, that he too had tears running down his cheeks. I told him of how much he had missed in his drug induced stupor over the years. I told him how even when he was under the same roof with me I felt like he was never truly there. Most importantly, I explained to him how much I wished he would be a real dad, not just a DNA contributor, to my little sisters. There was still time, I explained, to be a part of their lives. If only he could go through this rehab program and come out drug-free, he could be what he had just swore to me he wanted to be. I wanted to believe he was trying, but my entire being fought against it. How much can a person be let down before there is just no trust anymore?
I was sixteen at the time, and I felt completely alone in that room. I was, in fact, enduring what they call “family drug counseling”. It was meant to begin the mending process of relationships that had been destroyed by drugs, while a family member was overcoming their addiction. I wanted to be there for my father more than anything in the world. A part of me truly believed this would be over soon and that it would truly help.
I wrote this a while ago for my dad. It's unfinished and may never really truly come to a close. So many things have gone unanswered, but sometimes unanswered questions aren't always a bad thing. Maybe the most important questions are in the process of being answered? Happy Fathers Day Daddy! I will always love you, no matter what tomorrow may bring. Lord knows there's never a boring moment with you and I wouldn't have it any other way. :)
(As for the writing, feel free to tell me what you think everyone.)
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