Deja Vu

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A year ago on Fathers Day I wrote about my dealings with my father, and how I yearned for the chance to vent my frustrations to him and come to some sort of understanding. That never happened. I thought that maybe I was passed hating him. In fact, thats what I said. The days, weeks, months, and now year that follow let me know that Im not. You shouldnt hate anyone, I know. But, its hard not to feel that way about someone whos never shown any remorse for his actions. Hes still the same person who goes off into drunken tirades from dusk til dawn. The man that wishes death on his most loved ones has not had a change of heart. He is who he is: an abused child who was abandoned by his own, never fully healing from that, which subsequently led to his hatred and distrust for the world and all who inhibit it.

A few weeks ago I was leaving my house around midnight, and I knew he was out there – bitching and moaning as usual. I dont even remember the exact words he said to me, but lets just say I was angry enough to do something I would have regretted. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed.

I think maybe what bothers me and whats been bothering me is that when I look in the mirror, I now see him. Back in the fall I looked in the mirror and thought my father was behind me. It wasnt him, though. It was me. No one ever said we resembled each other, but as my round face continues to thin out, and I continue to move forward in my adulthood, the resemblance is there. Theres no denying it. Ive always been cautious about not becoming him, but the idea of looking like initially made my stomach turn.

Today, I called him to say Happy Fathers Day, ironically enough around the same time I called last year. He asked me if I needed any money, I say no. He says I love you. I say it back. The call ends. Not even a full two minutes. Not that there was anything else to say. No point in saying its because of him I still have a huge distrust of people and Im very reluctant to let people get close to me, because I know someone elses selfishness or bitterness can leave me vulnerableand hurt. No use of saying hes lucky as hell I didnt break his ass in half for asking me something very personal in such an asinine way. You funny? Took every bit of me not to swing yelling, Yeah, n…. (bad Mike, I know), I’m hysterical.

This is a man thats going to die with very few people shedding a tear. A week ago I left Houston thinking that Im fine with hating him. Now, Im not really sure. I love him and I pity him, but I do hate him for what all the evil things hes done, and I resent him for not owning up to his actions. But I know why he is the way he is, so instead of holding it in, Ill just learn and grow from it. Over the last year hes told me he wishes that he had my opportunities. It didnt hit me until this very second, but that acknowledgment proves that Im not himand I never will be.

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