“We never agreed. You dictated and eventually I swallowed my own objections. I’ve been choking on them ever since. Joy is here now and she stays.” Marcy tugged Joy’s hand and Joy followed her to the kitchen feeling her father’s stare of disapproval like bullet holes in her back.
I wasn’t seduced. I wasn’t forced. I made a mistake.” Then why doesn’t it feel like a mistake? She had asked herself that question over and over again. How could a baby be a mistake?
Before I left, I told Dad it was okay to let go and that he’d been a good dad. I don’t know if he heard me. I like to think he did. It’s been eight years. I know he’s still with me, but I miss him so much.
All my mother has inspired me to do is to be as much not like her as I possibly can. So maybe she has inspired me and I’m thankful for that.
Boy, I’ll tell you, when I get home I am going to step up the exercise routine. I can’t stand the idea of getting old and weak.
We were discussing his relationships with women. I told him he didn’t have any respect for women in general. He said he thinks his problem is something deep inside and he probably needs therapy to get at the root of it.
Every Father’s Day I think I’ll write about my dad, but I don’t. There is simply too much I’d want to say about him. I couldn’t fit it in one blog post. So…this might end up being a series of blogs about him. When he passed away a few years…