You were not a great dad. You weren’t even really a good dad. Mediocre is too generous. You were a very bad Bad BAD dad. Not bad in a Michael Jackson kind of way, you were bad in a Hannibal Lecter gives – you- nightmares- and – messes- you- up -good- kinda way
Why do I miss you today? Today I wonder if you are dead, and I wonder…if you were, how would I know? Maybe you recently left this world and it was your disembodied spirit on its way to bardo that came to me this morning in yoga class.
You came to remind me of the three times I saw you cry.
Once when I was eleven and down and out with migraines, I slept in your bed with the shades drawn cause light made me nauseous. I remember waking up to you sitting on the side of the bed watching me while rubbing my head. You were crying then. I could see your wet face through the dark.
Twice when you took Dawn and I into the orchard and told us that no matter what happened… we must remember that you would always love us. Boy were we confused, our big strong tattooed daddy blubbering like a little girl.
Barbara — the evil stepmother had arrived…
Thrice at the airport when you said goodbye to Jimmie and I. You hugged us and sobbed your goodbyes. You sent us to Phoenix to live with our mother, but I guess you forgot to call my mom, cause she lived in Tucson. Not in Phoenix. More confusion. We must have been really bad.
Except that we weren’t.
We were fucking perfect.
You chose a grave-digging- grandma- robbing hillbilly over your three beautiful children.
I’ve asked you to simply explain.
And you ignore me.
Like I’m already dead.
I died to you when I was eleven.
Still I love you.
And though you can’t feel it…
You love me too.
I know, cause I can feel it.
I’m really fucking pissed off.
If you are indeed dead…
I do pray that my very very bad dad may finally..
rest in peace.