a letter... sort of.

Please press play before you begin reading this blog.
When I was probably about 4 or 5 years old, I was at home with my dad, and the video camera. He put together a little video of our day at home together, to this song... and since I could remember, I've always thought of it as our song.



I've written a letter to my dad in my mind. I'm scared to put the words infront of me.

When I had just finished high school I decided to start writing short stories about things that I imagined happening in the future. One of those stories was about my dad's funeral. I remember writing about seeing myself lying infront of me, because he and I have the same face. That was a depressing time for me, just like these days are now. But what I had written before was written with anger, and resentment, and hate. I regret having imagined those things to be true now.

In those dark days, I resented my dad for the things that I have been through in my life. Today, I thank him for them. He really has molded me into a strong minded, strong hearted, bold, woman. And I am proud to be his daughter, no matter how little anyone else may think of him, he is still everything to me. Because he made me this way, and I love who I am.

Its becoming harder and harder to fight back tears; as each day passes, I know its one day less that he will be here with me. I don't know how to make the decisions I have to make now, he would want me to let him go peacefully without feeling any pain, or knowing that he's about to be gone. I don't want him to leave not know all the things I've wanted to say to him in the years that have passed.

I don't care about the hate that I had for him anymore, all I care about, is letting him know that I do love him, I do honor him, and I don't look back and hurt from the things he has done, instead... I look back and I understand. I understand what he did, why he did it, and that he and I don't have to think or speak about it... ever. All we have to do, is know that it happened, and it was supposed to.

I'm unsure about how my mom feels about any of this, she seems shocked and sad, but I don't know my mom as an emotional person. My brother is sad, but his life is just starting as my father's is ending... which are you supposed to choose? He has to leave, thats the way this is all supposed to happen now, and I've been chosen to carry this weight because as much as I may have been abused and mistreated in my lifetime by this man, it was for a reason, because I am him, we are the same person... and no one else could do this but me, its what I was made to do.

I carry his face with me always, his skin, his hair, his eyes... and I never question who is staring back at me in the mirror. Who's heart is feeling hurt when I cry, and who's hands tremble infront of me when I'm scared. I carry things with me that I never really appreciated before, and I never realized how much I should honor myself for being this person.

It makes me sad to think about all of the other people in my life now, that don't appreciate what they wear on their skin. All of the chances I had to visit my dad, to console him when he was sick, or to tell him I loved him... they're gone now. No one realizes until the curtain is about to drop, that they had so many chances to show someone what they mean, and it scares me... it hurts me.