This is my dad. Look at him. He is a cherub.
He wanted to help people, and he never expected anything in return. He just wanted not to be taken advantage of. However, he was often taken advantage of and that’s why he became bitter. Once, he decided to buy a car without trading in his old car because he wanted to give his old car to my mother’s sister, someone thirteen years younger who needed a break. He was satisfied and happy, until two months in, he learned that my mother’s sister’s husband sold the car and made a profit. He felt hurt, and he wanted me to avoid ever feeling so close to someone that I could allow myself to feel that vunerable. As I grew up, he hated how naively I put stock in friendships and how easily I shared my love with people, so much that once during an argument in a fit of rage he asked me if I liked to lick my friends’ c..ts. Yes. My dad could be mean. I lived in fear of him, but I also lived in awe of him. I knew he did not mean such terrible words, he just thought that if he could make me doubt my friendhsips, I could pull back my love and avoid the pain associated with disappointment. It didn’t work, but as an adult, I realize his intentions.
He was often disillisioned by others. As hard as he tried to shut out others, he couldn’t. He believed in the impossible. As hurt as he was, he always believed that people would be the best that they could be, and they would always have the best of intentions, like he did. He always believed in my brother and me.
I believe on New Year’s Day that my father is with us and wants us to be the best we can be. I do not feel anger and pain. I feel love for the life we had, I feel hope for the life to come.