It's Time

I am leaving today for Arkansas. My brother is going with me this time. My stepmom called yesterday and she's ready to let Dad go. She's called all his family and we will all be there with him tomorrow when they turn off the life support.

I probably shouldn't write this for all the world to see, but here it goes.

Dad,
I have two memories of you before you and Mom divorced when I was two years old. One of the memories is standing up in the front seat of your big, old car and you were taking us somewhere. I remember you smoking a huge cigar. You told me to take a puff - so I did. My other memory is very faint, but I do remember you taking us to the zoo and us riding some kind of roller coaster. After that, I have no memory of you at all, that's because you never came to pick us up anymore.

I hated you for that 12 years that I never saw you. I hated you because I thought you hated me. I thought you must be living the high life somewhere and you didn't have time for your two kids. Thought that me and Jason weren't good enough for you and that you had better things to do.

It wasn't until I had Maddie that I realized something. I realized it was a lot easier for you to just not call us at all - if you never picked us up, you would never have to drop us off again. How painful that must have been for you.

I've said some harsh words to you before, Dad, and I can honestly say that I meant every single word I said at the time I said them. But now it's different.

I never really thought it was possible that you could really care about us as much as you said you did. I never really believed that all you wanted was for us to call you and that would just make your whole day - hell, it would have made your whole month or year or whatever. I believe that now, Dad.

It wasn't until about a year ago when I started realizing you really did care about Jason and I. I don't know why it took me so long to come to that realization and I am sorry for that.

One of the biggest kicks I get is actually saying the words "my dad". I didn't say those words for 12 years and now they just roll off my tongue like I've said them my whole life. I'll miss saying those words.

I'll miss you, Dad. I love you, Dad.