I stopped living with my dad when I was sixteen and we stopped talking when I was eighteen. The last words my father ever spoke to me were “When’s your birthday?” over text, after my grandmother’s funeral. I’m sure he was just verifying but it is kind of ridiculous that these were his last words to me. A few years ago I told my step sister to give my dad my cell number in case he wants to meet his granddaughter. I didn’t hear from him. Maybe too much time has passed. It’s too awkward. Maybe he doesn’t want me back.
I wish I could just hug him and pretend no time has passed. It isn’t just because my life has turned to shit. My dad is a really cool guy. He is actually who I am the most like. I wish I was more successful so I could go and he could be proud. One day. My dad is a high school drop out who taught himself computers and started his own business. He is insanely smart and business savvy. He kept me sane more than he realizes. He doesn’t know how rough I found living with my mom on the weekend. I knew I had a hard time recovering and he got frustrated I kept coming home depressed.
I wish things went differently. I wish I didn’t move out so easily. I wish I wasn’t so soldier like. I wish I could have cried and said I love him, that I want to live with him full time. If I lived with him full time I would have been way less depressed. One day I want to tell him sorry for being such a failure and embarrassing him so much.