Bereavement, Childhood trauma, Family

Happy Father’s Day

“Happy Father’s Day Dad. Love you, Natalie xx”

A message on his Facebook page last year, I never sent a card. Not last year, the year before, or maybe any year since I was small.

I won’t type that message this year, as you’re not here anymore to see. Am I allowed to miss you, when you were hardly there at all?

The truth is you weren’t a good father, but I like to think that you tried. Especially since I’ve been an adult, when you reached out before you died.

I’m glad I built a relationship with you, even if it was after I’d grown, I’m glad you came to see me and my family of my own. The hurt of the past always there, it never went away but the adult relationship we had was different, we laughed, we joked, and you let me in, maybe for the first time.

I was glad we’d built bridges and for me I needed to heal, but still you hadn’t changed how you feel.

In your will you left nothing for your children, not a book or a card or a photo. I don’t have anything to remember you, it mustn’t have come to your mind. I had some words from your wife, but they weren’t very kind.

But pain has no memory, and death forgives all sins. And I can’t any longer be angry with you, after all, you’ve grown your wings

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