You were murdered and somehow I thought it had a lot to do with me and the negative energy I put it the atmosphere. For so many years, I hated you. I think I even told you that the next time I’d see you would be in your casket. I actually meant that. I hated you Dad because when you and my mother separated, you left me.
Did you know I was promiscuous? I tried so hard to be wanted and tried to fill the void you left me to deal with. I hated myself for it. Did you know I hated my step sisters? I hated visiting you while you and my step family sat on the furniture you took from my mom; her and I slept on the floor ya know. Do you know I have a terrible temper and have even hit my husband like you did my mom. Did you know I was molested? My mom had to work so much that I had to stay with family members who clearly had issues of their own. It seems kind of unfair that I never told you these things. I never told you why I was so angry.
Through all of that, I was able to forgive you because you reached out to me and acknowledged that you hurt me. It meant more to me than any simple “I’m sorry”. At that moment, I realized you were just a person, like me, suffering from some of the same issues passed along from imperfect parents. There is no doubt in my mind that if I shared those things with you, you would have stepped in and stepped up. The last two years of your life was awesome learning you.
The only thing I hate now is the thought of the years I wasted hating you.