June 22, 2003

  • I'm a little more tired than usual, likely the after effects of being sick for a better half of the week and not really allowing myself to recover fully from the whole ordeal.


    My step dad came to the house yesterday.  I haven't seen him since before my mom passed away and only talked to him when she did pass.  He didn't even come to the funeral.  It's funny how that is. 


    I didn't know what to say or do.  I actually wanted to hit him and torment him for not being around when she needed him, even when they were together.  I wanted to tell him how much he had hurt her when he had cheated on her, and how it wasn't fair to any of us when he would get drunk and go off and throw a fit.  Or during the many times that we were in the car and he'd go mashing down the road, the both of us scared to death at the idea that if he made one small mistake, we'd be dead.


    I didn't.  I stayed calm, even though I could feel my chest tighten up and my heart pound and my teeth and hands clenched.  Now I feel guilty.  I feel guilty for even having those thoughts.


    We ended up having a calm conversation, about what we each were up to, and what we had planned.  It wasn't a father son moment, but it was civil, like old acquaintances getting together again.