Talking about my dad is such a hard thing. Mostly because it always stirs up polar emotions.
He could do a great impression of Donald Duck and my love for Boston Creme Donuts is because of him. I learned how to write my name in cursive and how to do division in my head all because of his loving attention to me his daughter.
He is also why words mean so much to me. He often would use them to bring encouragement and joy but just as often his words could cut deep leaving wounds unseen by the human eye but felt longer than those of physical marks.
At my father’s memorial service nearly four years ago, I shared that he was much like King Saul(in his later years)…tormented, without peace and not the man he used to be.
It’s hard to look at someone that so many saw as gentle and kind and hope to see the same attributes but instead recall the words and actions that were taken behind closed doors.
Today I remember his birthday. He would have been 60 years old. I mourn parts of him that will never know my children. There are also parts I am relieved my children will never have to experience.
We speak of Poppy on occasion. He’s in Heaven and one day we will see him. The man who is no longer tormented by mental illness, who no longer bears the chains of his own childhood abuse. He’s been freed.
I loved him. I really did. I miss him. I really do. I grieve the man he could have become.
May he continue to rest in peace and may the more admirable parts of his legacy live on in me and be passed onto my children.
I love you Daddy.
Your Sweet Pea always,